The Botany of Desire: A Plant's-Eye View of the World

231 Pages·2001·0.98 MB·English

by  Michael Pollan

ALSO BY MICHAEL POLLAN
Second Nature: A Gardener’s Education
A Place of My Own: The Education of an Amateur Builder
THE
BOTANY
OF
DESIRE
RANDOM HOUSE
NEW YORK
Copyright © 2001 by Michael Pollan

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Random
House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.

ANDOM OUSE
R H and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Pollan, Michael.
The botany of desire : a plant’s-eye view of the world / Michael Pollan.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references (p. ).
eISBN 1-588-36008-3
v1.0
1. Human-plant relationships. I. Title.
QK46.5.H85 P66 2001 306.4’5—dc21 00-066479

Random House website address: www.atrandom.com Book design by J. K. Lambert
For my parents, who never doubted (or, if they did, never let it show); and
my grandfather, with gratitude
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Introduction The Human Bumblebee

Chapter 1 Desire: Sweetness / Plant: The Apple
Chapter 2 Desire: Beauty / Plant: The Tulip
Chapter 3 Desire: Intoxication / Plant: Marijuana
Chapter 4 Desire: Control / Plant: The Potato

Epilogue
Sources
Index
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I had a great deal of help in the making of this book at every step of the
way. My thanks first to all the people who gave so generously of their time and
knowledge while I was reporting and researching the project; their names appear
in the Sources.
Ever since I started writing books a dozen or so years ago, I’ve had the
privilege and even greater pleasure of working with Ann Godoff; indeed, by now
I can’t imagine writing a book without the net of her wisdom, trust, and
friendship. My literary agent, Amanda Urban, has also been there since the
beginning. She knew before anyone else that The Botany of Desire was the book
I should be writing, and, straight through, her judgment on all matters has been
indispensable.
Mark Edmundson has also had a hand in all three of my books, though for
no other reason but friendship. He read the manuscript with great care and
intelligence, parts of it more than once, and every page he touched he made
better. Just as important, though, have been the sympathetic ear and priceless
reading suggestions he offered along the way. I’ve been incredibly fortunate, too,
to have the gifted editorial eye of Paul Tough, who has gracefully morphed from
student to teacher; his suggestions were invaluable. I also owe a large debt of
gratitude to Mardi Mellon, at the Union of Concerned Scientists, who generously
brought her scientific eye to bear on the manuscript, saving me from all manner
of embarrassment; whatever errors remain, however, are mine alone.
My initial forays into the worlds of marijuana-growing and genetically
engineered potatoes were sponsored by The New York Times Magazine; heartfelt
thanks to Gerry Marzorati, Adam Moss, and Jack Rosenthal for their unstinting
support and encouragement, as well as to Stephen Mihm for his stellar research
assistance. Carol Schneider, Robbin Schiff, Benjamin Dreyer, Alexa Cassanos,
and Kate Niedzwiecki have been invaluable allies, as are, always, Jack Hitt,
Mark Danner, and Allan Gurganus. Thanks also to Isaac Pollan for his
encouragement and, on the bad days, his understanding and comfort.
And finally, to Judith, who really comes first, because without her eye, ear,
wisdom, support, patience, encouragement, discernment, foresight, confidence,
companionship, judgment, clarity, humor, and love, none of this would ever have
gotten done.

Cornwall Bridge, Connecticut
October 2000
INTRODUCTION
The Human Bumblebee
The seeds of this book were first planted in my garden—while I was
planting seeds, as a matter of fact. Sowing seed is pleasant, desultory, not terribly
challenging work; there’s plenty of space left over for thinking about other
things while you’re doing it. On this particular May afternoon, I happened to be
sowing rows in the neighborhood of a flowering apple tree that was fairly
vibrating with bees. And what I found myself thinking about was this: What
existential difference is there between the human being’s role in this (or any)
garden and the bumblebee’s?
If this sounds like a laughable comparison, consider what it was I was doing
in the garden that afternoon: disseminating the genes of one species and not
another, in this case a fingerling potato instead of, let’s say, a leek. Gardeners
like me tend to think such choices are our sovereign prerogative: in the space of
this garden, I tell myself, I alone determine which species will thrive and which
will disappear. I’m in charge here, in other words, and behind me stand other
humans still more in charge: the long chain of gardeners and botanists, plant
breeders, and, these days, genetic engineers who “selected,” “developed,” or
“bred” the particular potato that I decided to plant. Even our grammar makes the
terms of this relationship perfectly clear: I choose the plants, I pull the weeds, I
harvest the crops. We divide the world into subjects and objects, and here in the
garden, as in nature generally, we humans are the subjects.
But that afternoon in the garden I found myself wondering: What if that
grammar is all wrong? What if it’s really nothing more than a self-serving
conceit? A bumblebee would probably also regard himself as a subject in the
garden and the bloom he’s plundering for its drop of nectar as an object. But we
know that this is just a failure of his imagination. The truth of the matter is that
the flower has cleverly manipulated the bee into hauling its pollen from blossom
to blossom.
The ancient relationship between bees and flowers is a classic example of
what is known as “coevolution.” In a coevolutionary bargain like the one struck
by the bee and the apple tree, the two parties act on each other to advance their
individual interests but wind up trading favors: food for the bee, transportation
for the apple genes. Consciousness needn’t enter into it on either side, and the