Customer Reviews

Among Flowers: A Walk in the Himalaya (National Geographic Directions)

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As an avid reader, enthusiastic traveler, lover of Nepal, and a wannabe gardener, I eagerly picked up "Among Flowers: A Walk in the Himalaya". Jamaica Kincaid has written of her trek through the mountains of Nepal gathering seeds to plant in her Vermont garden. What promises to be a literary trek through some of the world's highest peaks ends up feeling more like a slow walk down an endless sidewalk. While there are a few remarkable descriptions of the mountains and rivers she crossed, most of the book is filled with the author's introspective whining. The pages of a travel memoir should transport the reader into another land and introduce us to it's places, people and unique culture. Unfortunately, "Among Flowers" fails to do any of those things.
The main thing that struck me about this book is how self-absorbed the author seems to be. By her own admission, she took almost no interest in what was around her unless it was of some use to her, for example, if some particular seeds would grow in her region. While she seems to have a good grasp of Latin plant names, she couldn't learn the actual names of her Nepali porters. Instead she refers to them merely by what role they played in relation to her- the man who prepared her meals was "Cook" and the one who carried her table was "Table". She admits that she didn't bother noting the characteristics of the Nepali people since they couldn't do the same for her. She makes a gross generalization of the people as either looking like they were from the South (India) or the North (Tibet), apparently not having taken the time to learn about the many indigenous Nepalese tribes. As a black woman who was raised in Antigua and now resides in America, I was very surprised at Kincaid's lack of cultural sensitivity toward others and apparent disinterest in the people of Nepal. In addition, in two different places she mentions having a hatred for the Germans and even says "Germans seem to be the one group of people left that can not be liked just because you feel like it".
As a piece of literature, the text is rambling and incohesive. Some sentences seem like they will never end; others left me wondering what she was talking about. She ping-pongs between what she sees and what she feels and then attempts to draw us into her distant memories. Far too much of the book is spent describing what she was thinking and complaining about things. I'm afraid the result is that she seems to be far more engrosed with herself than interested in the amazing places and people she is walking among. This book may better have been described as a personal journal than a travel memoir.
If you are interested in trekking in the Himalaya, read a different book. If gardening and seed-collecting are what you fancy, look somewhere else. However, if you want to get to know Jamaica Kincaid, this just may be the book for you.

Among Flowers is an account of Kincaid's trek in the Himalaya with her botanist companions.

Kincaid, living in Vermont but originally from Antigua, is an enthusiastic gardener herself though not a seed collector to the extent of her botanist companions. On occasion, particularly at the beginning, I couldn't help wondering what Kincaid was doing on the expedition other than gathering material for this quirky introspective book. She makes much of missing her thirteen-year old son Harold and keeps calling him on her satellite phone until Sunam, the Sherpa leader, takes it away from her due to the Maoist activity in the area. Also she is acutely aware that most of the seeds collected are not suitable for growing in Vermont and therefore shows little or no enthusiasm for them.

As regards her companions, she mentions them by name but dispenses with detailed description. It's as if they were pale ghosts beavering away in a mystical landscape in their quest for seeds.

To say I didn't care for the book would be wrong, rather, I did enjoy it, but found several sentences repetitive, stumbling, and bordering on the nonsensical. The writing does not flow easily ...

... "Dan said we were too low for finding this; Bleddyn said, yes, but soon we would be." ...

... "It resembled something my children would play with in the bathtub, rounded and dullishly smoothed, like an old-fashioned view of the way things will look in the old-fashioned future, not pointed and harshly shiny like the future I am used to living in now." ...

... "When I told Sunam how touched I was by his presence, this little boy, the same age as my son, carrying sixty-pound loads strapped up on his back, he said of course I would be touched because Jhaba was a Sherpa." ...

... "Now the shield itself was behind me, I could no longer see the mountains that had been the shield of my destination." ...

It's as if this stumbling style mimics Kincaid's stumbling trek ... "That night in the cold dark and snow when I had stumbled into camp, what I had missed seeing growing spectacularly among the boulders hovering above me was the great Rheum nobile, growing solitary, erect, aloof, and stiff like little sentinels."

Despite her off-beat writing style, or because of it, Kincaid succeeds in capturing the mysterious atmosphere of her surroundings and the frustrations of seed/plant collecting combined with the real danger of confronting Maoist guerrillas. A view on another world within a world.

She manages to give an impression of possessing a contrived naivety through her writing style which is simplistic and complex all at the same time. Nevertheless, I'd prefer to have had her participate more and given a gutsier descriptive account of the seed collecting and the people surrounding her.

That's style for you, what gets published and what doesn't. I'd be interested to know how much editing went on. Agents and editors are notorious for cutting and suggesting re-writes for clarity or length. This book is purposely short, by Kincaid's own admission, probably her stylistic view-point won over her editor in previous publications so that aspect was a non-starter in this one.

Stay away from this book! Jamaica Kincaid's book is filled with pseudo-philosophy and hollow observations towards life which reads artificial. As someone who has trekked the Himalaya, I can only surmise that Kincaid was on some shallow, self-absorbed trip of her own. Don't just take my word for it, read just one of her own passages (pages 27-28): "One group was from Austria but we decided to call them the Germans, because we didn't like them from the look of them, they were so professional-looking with all kinds of hiking gear, all meant to make the act of hiking easier, I think. But we didn't like them, and Germans seem to be the one group of people left that can not be liked just because you feel like it." She can't even be bothered to learn the name of one of the Sherpas who helped carry her provisions, and instead refers to him as "Table" since he was also responsible for setting up the table where her and the other hikers ate. Giving him this demeaning nickname as you would a dog gives you some idea as to the type of person Kincaid is. Save yourself a few bucks, there are far, far better books to read about the Himalayas.

I picked up this book for the captivatingly beautiful cover (mine was a hard cover with a misty photo of an old temple and two young lamas) and romantic title, but I am not sure if the writing lives up to it.

As I myself had been an inexperienced hiker on a difficult trek, I can understand how the harsh journey can bring out the unpleasant, frustrated and complaining self, and blind one to the surrounding, despite its beauty, but it does feel like the author whines too much (and pees a lot). The writing itself was at times clumsy too, as if mirroring her footsteps, which was a surprise coming from an acclaimed literary.

This is a lovely book which beautifully describes an extensive trek in a remote area of the Himalayas. Ms. Kincaid and her close friend, Dan Hinckley, a distinguised botanist, make the trip together. Dan Hinckley has traveled in the region extensively. It is the author's first Himalayan trek and she trains diligently to be prepared for its rigors. The author is a gifted writer who describes the feelings and emotions triggered by the beauty of the region and its warm and hospitable people. Ms. Kincaid's style is most engaging and includes wonderful description, humor, and great senstivity. The focus of the trek is the collection of seeds for propagating Himalayan plantlife in North America. The passion of the participants for gathering the seeds of rare species is engaging to gardeners and non-gardeners alike. All who have journeyed to this special part of the world, or intend to, will enjoy this charming book.

It seems apparent that some of the reviewers picked up this book with the misguided notion that they were going to read some wonderful account of their beloved Himalayas. Apparently you have no idea who Jamaica Kincaid is or what her writings are about, so if are upset because you have "been to the Himalayas and there are much better writings," it's because you've never read (or probably even heard about) "My Brother," "Lucy," or any other of her profound literary works. She is not a travel author, and although this work is set during her physical journey, it, like every other work of hers, is about the psychological, emotional, and social journeys we all make.

Anyone has the right to write a review, but please make sure you have some idea of the genre of the book before you start casting dispersions. Personally, I give this book a 4 only because I consider this work to be less introspective than her others. It's still more profound than 90% of the other writings out there, just not as emotionally revealing as, say, "Autobiography of My Mother." Her writing is, as always, lyrical, with the unique ability to paint an extraordinarily vivid picture of even the most banal scenes. I highly recommend it, but only if you are well aware that this is not a "travelogue."

I am a world traveller. I love learning about other cultures first hand as well as reading about them. This book has great reviews. Unfortunately the people writing the reviews must have received a kick back. This was by far the worst written book I've ever read. It was like the author was forced to put words on a page. She showed no interest in the people she encountered or her new surroundings. I'll never buy another book written by her again. It's a complete waste of money.

Jamaica Kincaid writes this memoir of her travels in Hong Kong, Nepal, and the Himalayan Mountains in October 2002. Her fellow hikers were Dan Hinkley of European descent, living now in Seattle and Bleddyn & Sue Wynn-Jones from Wales. They belong to a group of botanists who go on trips to gather seeds from plants to transplant after they return to their separate homes. In 1998 she had been on a similar trek across southwestern China with Dan.

On this trip she was exhilerated by the lushness of the foliage, so like a paradise garden, but could not get used to the deceptive nearness of their destinations (so near and yet so far). She was not accustomed to the vast difference between her expectation, perception, and reality -- the way things really are.

They faced some dangers along the way and some hardships, but the trip was long and winding up and down hills and they were exhausted by nightfall. A tall waterfall was so ferocious it sounded like jet engines on an airplane.

It took a while to absorb all that she'd seen to put it into book form for the National Geographic. They felt lucky to get back to civilization after the three-week long walk. She took notes along the way and had her digitial camera with her to take relevant photos. She grew up on an island in the Carribbean but now lives in Vermont where she has a continuing garden.