I cannot help but see the irony in writing a review of a book written by a self-described “odd bird” in a blog entitled Sense of Misplaced. Perfect. What author J. Drew Lanham manages to convey brilliantly is that biophilia is a desirable affliction that transcends all colors of human diversity. The Home Place is a clarifying window into what it means to be an outsider among the privileged Caucasians who dominate the fields of biology, ecology, and wildlife conservation. Even casual birding presents challenges, but Lanham offers hope for a more integrated future.
Dr. Lanham and I are close in age, so it was intriguing to see what similarities of experience we shared given graphic differences in our home places. He is a Black man. I am not. He has siblings, and now children of his own. I do not. His upbringing was rural, mine urban. I am certain, however, that we both colored the same mimeographed songbird outlines in our respective elementary schools, even though there are no Northern Cardinals, Blue Jays, or Rose-breasted Grosbeaks in western Oregon. No “markingbirds,” either. Ok, end of anything “me,” here, though a literary memoir would fail miserably if it did not spark memories in the reader’s mind, and evoke empathy and agreement.
The ecosystems of place, time, family, faith, academia, economy, and wild nature are all woven together seamlessly in The Home Place. Each one influences all the others, none standing alone. Through it all, Lanham expresses an ethical philosophy and physical and emotional vulnerability that is obviously authentic. He would never call himself brave, let alone heroic, but in many ways he is exactly that. Lanham carries a reverence for life that applies to every aspect, from familial relationships to hunting, birding, and conservation research.
The book is organized along the trajectory of Lanham’s personal and professional life, beginning as a member of a familial “flock,” and progressing through “fledgling” to full-blown “flight.” Today, Dr. Lanham is positively soaring, having recently received a MacArthur Foundation fellowship, recipient one of the prestigious “genius grants” the foundation awards to exceptional individuals. Indeed, Lanham is one of those rare birds able to effortlessly navigate both the creative and scientific realms, bringing a unique perspective to both academic and public spheres.
No one would fault the author for having an angry tone given past and present injustices to their demographic. Instead, Lanham manages to tread that fine line between justified hostility and denial that historical and personal transgressions hindered their life at all. He is properly assertive, mournful for the lives of his ancestors, and insistent that things be made right.
We can all be better allies for reading The Home Place, a John Burroughs Medal Finalist as a "Nature Book of Uncommon Merit." It is an invitation to explore ourselves as well as the world around us, and to advocate for both biodiversity and human inclusivity.
In case you could not already surmise, I am highly recommending The Home Place for your personal library. It is like adding the work of an esteemed artist to your office wall. Whenever I am feeling a loss, be it mourning the loss of a favorite wild place, or simply at a loss for words, or way to communicate powerfully, I can pick up this book and be inspired all over again. The Home Place was published by Milkweed Editions, a non-profit entity located in Minneapolis, Minnesota, in 2016. The book is 217 pages.
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