I decided to put this book down at 30% as I felt I had gained the core message and information the text was trying to convey. While the message was originally compelling and engaging, as we got further into the book I found the writing quite repetitive and no longer felt as though it was building an image for the reader - the key information had already been told. For readers who are seeking a deeper exploration the remainder of the book would likely be fitting, however for the casual non-fiction reader there isn’t much drive to continue deeper into the book.

This was a thought-provoking read. Sadly though, the book tried to accomplish too many things at once: it was a personal memoir about her childhood, had interviews with farmers about the current landscape, included an introductory lesson on soil health and regenerative agriculture, and even included thoughts about sticking in one location versus more modern migratory behavior. While I would recommend this book as a way to begin the discussion, there are better choices out there that dive more deeply into these individual topics.

<i><b>Uprooted: Recovering the Legacy of the Places We've Left Behind</i></b> is Grace Olmstead's encouragement (truly a veiled plea) to readers of her book to ponder the footsteps and decisions of their own past generations, especially ancestors who chose to stick, and how and why.

Written in the form of a memoir, the author shares heartfelt considerations of her own ancestral families settling in the Payette Valley of Idaho in the 1880's. She skillfully draws them, their parts and members, and dresses them fully in their agrarian goals - grains and fruit are stars in this part of the world - and grounds all in the virtues they held: benevolence, service to others and self-reliance. She works her way through the years chronologically and arrives at her own front door. She considers her own leaving of the homeplace to an opposite shore, always looking back over her shoulder at what was left behind, and to where she ultimately believes she will return. From here the book and read becomes even more compelling.

Questions are posed about the effect of her family and her life (whisper suggesting you consider the lives of you and your own family on wherever you find yourself with this read in hand) on the land they have "cultivated" (meaning from which they've removed value however that is defined). At its most basic level: who and how many persons in the past had to die in order for the land to be procured? How was that justified (and now did the benevolence or equity weigh in)? On other levels how did it play out over time in resources used and bettered or used and depleted? How did it work out in generations sticking (staying in the community built), or loss of cultural capital to other more attractive urban areas? The author asks deep and abiding questions that are relevant to every acre in the world that finds human feet planted - she begs a reader to take a longer look and consider if they really know everything they think they do.

In the two generations that have occurred since my birth in the 50's, there has been a complete turning upside down of history, the roles of the players, and a change of that two-faced mask worn. Manifest Destiny becomes a death sentence for whole nations, pioneers, pilgrims and explorers are no longer honored but are vilified and all motives for migration translate to declarations of war. While all the defensive hackles rise, it is well worth the exercise to take a deep breath, pet them down and soberly reckon on all "history" doesn't reconcile. Ponder and consider changing the frames we keep around what we know, and readjust as realizations squeeze in. This invitation is important and timely, and is the pressing question this author leaves with the reader.

A worthy read and one I'll take with me as I walk, move and contemplate in the spaces I call home, where my ancestors called home, and those roads my children and their children have yet to travel.

*A sincere thank you to Grace Olmstead, Penguin Group Sentinel, and NetGalley for an ARC to read and independently review.* #Uprooted #NetGalley

As an Iowan who is rooted to her community, not necessarily by choice but by circumstance, Uprooted spoke to my soul. This is such a niche book for me. Grace Olmstead left her hometown of Emmett, Idaho for DC and Virginia during college. This book is part memoir and part sociological examination of why people leave our rural communities, the challenges imposed on our rural communities by this exodus, and what we can do to get people to stay. While exploring these topics, Olmstead also reflects on why she left, and whether she would return to Idaho.

This book holds a special place in my heart as an Iowan. I'm extremely politically involved, and interested in the commodification of our agricultural processes through an environmental lense. Olmstead leaves no stone unturned, touching on policy impacts, climate change, agribusiness becoming a monopoly, and even a bit of manifest destiny/depletion of our resources. So much of what is discussed in this book is so relevant to myself and my community. I thought of so many farming communities and family members that I know and as someone who is a part of a family with a Century Farm, watching the legacy of that land is especially impactful following reading this novel.

I would love to move from my hometown, and hope to do so someday, but I have very real and valid reasons for staying here for now. This book really helped me explore my heart and my why for now and provided reassurance in our current situation. Highly recommend.

Grace Olmstead takes us on a poignant journey through the landscapes of her past, unveiling the quiet heartaches and fierce resilience of the places left behind. Her narrative echoes the wisdom of American novelist Wendell Berry. Olmstead embarks on an exploration of the ties that bind us to the towns and communities of our upbringing.

The tiny farm town of Emmett, Idaho, serves as the setting for Olmstead's meditative and deeply personal reflection. Here, life is divided into two distinct paths: those who leave in pursuit of new horizons, and those who remain to nurture the roots that run deep. It is a tale as old as time, where the allure of greener pastures, promising jobs, and education tempts the young and ambitious, leaving the steadfast behind to grapple with the consequences.

As one who left Emmett behind to seek her destiny in Washington, D.C., Olmstead explores the profound consequences of uprooting. In "Uprooted," she weaves her personal story with the broader narrative of heartland America. This narrative unfolds as part memoir, part investigative journalism, and all-heartfelt reflection.

Olmstead poses profound questions about the debt we owe to the places that have molded us and the sacrifices we make in the name of progress. In her soul-searching quest to determine whether she should return to her roots, she revisits the legacies of those who once breathed life into Emmett. The stories of her great-grandparents and grandparents take us on a journey back to a time when Emmett was a vibrant community, and her childhood an idyllic paradise.

"Uprooted" does not shy away from the harsh realities of farming life today. Olmstead examines the government policies and corporate practices that have pushed towns like Emmett to the brink of extinction. She unearths the impact on the heartland, where once-thriving communities now stand on the brink.

The narrative reveal the newcomers who bring growth and change to Emmett, unraveling the delicate balance between tradition and progress. As Olmstead casts her eye over the area's farming heritage, we are confronted with the consequences of modernity's relentless march.

In "Uprooted," Olmstead avoids the pitfalls of sentimental nostalgia for the past or a blind faith in an unrestrained pursuit of progress. She shines a compassionate light on the ways in which modern life chips away at our roots, be they metaphorical or literal. She compels us to confront the fallout of our relentless pursuit of self-improvement, economic opportunity, and the elusive concept of growth.

Ultimately, Olmstead arrives at a conclusion that is unsettling and also thought-provoking: while one can cultivate habits and practices that promote rootedness wherever they may be, there are some things, once lost, that can never truly be recovered. "Uprooted" is a captivating and empathetic exploration of what it means to be tethered to the past, and the sacrifices we make in the name of progress. Grace Olmstead invites readers to embark on their own contemplative journey back to the heartland.

"A heartfelt exploration of roots and resilience -- 'Uprooted' digs deep into the heartland."

"Grace Olmstead's journey home -- A tale of love, loss, and loyalty to the heartland."

"A poignant memoir that chronicles the ties that bind."

"An unforgettable glimpse into the past and present of heartland America."

"A reflection on the places we leave behind and the legacy we carry."

"Discover the quiet strength of heartland communities in 'Uprooted.'"

"A soul stirring narrative of love, loss, and the power of home."

"A journey back to the heartland -- 'Uprooted' reveals the echoes of our past."

"An evocative memoir that speaks to the heartland's enduring spirit."

"Grace Olmstead invites readers on a profound odyssey of connection and commitment."

I unfortunately did not connect with Olmstead's writing. I loved the Idaho setting and thought it was well-researched; however, it just felt like it was much too long and was stuck in the details about the farming and the economics of farming.

“Uprooted" is the memoir of a woman from Emmett, Idaho who has uprooted herself and landed on the east coast. It is a story about being homesick and wrestling with the idea of returning home. It is political commentary and analysis of rural farrmng communities and the polices that affect them. It is a bit of a textbook on soil depletion, and farm politics. Grace Olmstead attempts to accomplish a lot in one volume …. perhaps too much.
I enjoyed “Uprooted,” probably because I can personally relate to her story and opinions on many levels, but did find it to be repetitive and rambling at times.

This is the story of a D.C. transplant reckoning with her choice to leave her rural Idaho home, contributing to the brain drain that is slowly decimating the quiet farm towns she grew up in. She discusses the Farm Bill, gentrification, economic opportunity, and education as contributors to the decay of small farm life.

Even though I couldn't connect with this book, it was obviously well researched, well documented, and well written. Perhaps it was my fault. What I thought I was getting was a memoir. What this books is, instead, is a very capable exploration of farming communities in general, and the authors own hometown in Idaho in particular. It maybe could have benefited from a more narrow focus. There are interviews of local families: their opinions, pitfalls and triumphs, interspersed with a liberal dose of statistics and the authors own experience both as a member of a local family and as someone who left her community. But, it lacked the emotional connection of Hillbilly Elegy, the savvy exploration of Michael Pollan, and the literary quality of Wendell Berry. It seems caught somewhere in the middle, somewhere between wanting to be a memoir of a farming family and a treatise on farming losses. The book does document well the issues modern farmers face, from lack of income and resources that are available to big farm operations, to unsustainable farming methods, and the 'brain drain' of farming communities. The book also touches on the history of the region, and how some of these problems began, and escalated. But, in the last chapter it also treads dangerously close to politicizing all the issues small farming communities face, and I felt that detracted from the larger message. Overall, it's not a bad read if you enjoy Michael Pollan and other nature/food related writers, books about conservation and ecology, or a discussion about where food comes from. It is not, however, specifically an exploration of growing up in small town Idaho, or feeling like an outsider somewhere else.

A fascinating exploration of the current state of America's rural farming communities, the processes that lead to their current state, and the possibilities of hope for their future, through the lens of one particular community in Idaho. Olmstead's perspective as someone who has generations of family history in that community, but left for college and never returned is particularly interesting. There's a lot to think about here, including how those of us from larger cities have unwittingly contributed to the degradation of both farmers and farming communities.

I had high hopes for this book, expecting more of a memoir and less of a politically-driven "history" lesson using a broad paintbrush. Made it through about 25% of the book before setting it aside, the writing style and deep dive into a very niched history presenting a different picture and read than expected.

One item that set the book off on the wrong foot for me: Early on, the author attributed to "many conservatives and libertarians" a "prevalent national attitude...that we need to let communities evolve according to the dictates of the market" (eARC loc. 77). Being conservative myself, and yet very appreciative of small towns and fully of the belief they do, in fact matter, I would have appreciated more context and data to substantiate this statement. It really felt closed off to further discussion--which one would think is at least one of the book's goals.

I received an eARC of the book from the publisher via NetGalley. All opinions are my own.

Part polemic against the agricultural industrial complex, part family history, part personal memoir, and part local history, Grace Olmstead's debut Uprooted gracefully weaves through the intertwining stories of her family’s farming history, the decision to leave her hometown, and the fragile inhumanity of our food systems. The book challenges readers who, like the author, are perhaps trying to reconcile what it means to be in one place at the present, yet from another. This tension of belonging animates the entire book.

The story of displacement is told vis-a-vis the changes in American agriculture over the past 100 years. The book avoids two common pitfalls in doing so. First, it steers clear of an easy romanticism for the better days of a pre-industrial food system (something I myself have been guilty of after my first encounter with the writings of Wendell Berry, a figure whose influence is all over this book). Yet at the same time, the book avoids a cynical fall into despair and paralysis at the magnitude of damage our food systems have inflicted upon the land, the communities of people who give their lives to grow food in it, and those of us who consume it. This eye toward larger “political” systems and “personal” stories is part of what makes Uprooted so compelling. Olmstead speaks to both without neglecting either.

What truly captivated me as a reader, however, was the frequent return to a loving and honest portrait of the Howards of Emmett, Idaho, the place and people Olmstead is from. Her inventive, contrarian, gracious and hard-working great-Grandfather Howard (“grand-pa dad”) exemplifies the “sticker” way of life the book calls for.

Borrowing the terminology from Wallace Stegner, “stickers” are those who settle down in a place to invest in it, while “boomers” are those who come to extract value from a place and then move on. Uprooted is a wonderfully written, inspiring portrait of stickers in a world of boomers.

I have been wanting to start a feature here on the blog called Small Town Saturday for some time. I just haven't had the chance. The idea is that I will feature books about rural places. I am forever grateful for my rural experience and feel that by sharing the voices of others, they can have their place too.

Without further ado, here is our first book feature: Uprooted.

Author: Grace Olmstead

Summary from Goodreads:
In the tradition of Wendell Berry, a young writer wrestles with what we owe the places we’ve left behind.

In the tiny farm town of Emmett, Idaho, there are two kinds of people: those who leave and those who stay. Those who leave go in search of greener pastures, better jobs, and college. Those who stay are left to contend with thinning communities, punishing government farm policy, and environmental decay.

Grace Olmstead, now a journalist in Washington, DC, is one who left, and in Uprooted, she examines the heartbreaking consequences of uprooting—for Emmett, and for the greater heartland America. Part memoir, part journalistic investigation, Uprooted wrestles with the questions of what we owe the places we come from and what we are willing to sacrifice for profit and progress.

As part of her own quest to decide whether or not to return to her roots, Olmstead revisits the stories of those who, like her great-grandparents and grandparents, made Emmett a strong community and her childhood idyllic. She looks at the stark realities of farming life today, identifying the government policies and big agriculture practices that make it almost impossible for such towns to survive. And she explores the ranks of Emmett’s newcomers and what growth means for the area’s farming tradition.

Avoiding both sentimental devotion to the past and blind faith in progress, Olmstead uncovers ways modern life attacks all of our roots, both metaphorical and literal. She brings readers face to face with the damage and brain drain left in the wake of our pursuit of self-improvement, economic opportunity, and so-called growth. Ultimately, she comes to an uneasy conclusion for herself: one can cultivate habits and practices that promote rootedness wherever one maybe, but: some things, once lost, cannot be recovered.

Personal Review: If you enjoy books about rural places, stewardship, or the journey of the self, this may be the book for you. I resonated on many levels of this book having grown up in a rural place and moving away. I have had to learn that even though I may not be in that place anymore, the things that I learned in being there have forever shaped who I am. This book was moving and explored how rural America is being impacted. I enjoyed it very much.

Disclaimer: I was awarded this book by the publisher/NetGalley. Though I did not pay for the book, the opinions are strictly my own.

Happy Reading!

Grace Olmstead grew up in the rural Idaho farm country, but moved away for college and to pursue her career. She has never moved back. But in the years since she left her hometown, she has realized that she is not the only one. There is a national trend of young folks leaving small towns and rural communities in order to seek better opportunities elsewhere.

In Uprooted, Olmstead uses her training as a journalist to figure out why. Yet she also leans on her experience growing up on the land to share the story in the form of a memoir. Along the way, she tells stories from her own family and the families of those still working the land in her Idaho community. What she discovers is disheartening, but not surprising. Younger generations are leaving rural life, because there roots do not go deep enough to keep them. The farming industry, which use to be the backbone of American life has drastically changed. Fewer and fewer farms are surviving and the ones that do have no prospect of lasting past the current farmer after he or she retires.

What has been seen as “chasing your dreams” or moving on to bigger and better things, has hollowed out the soul of rural American life and threatens the livelihoods of farmers nationwide. Uprooted is a fascinating read. For those who have a connection to rural life, this book hits close to home. For those that live in a more urban context, it can serve as an eye opener. I highly recommend it.

I really enjoyed reading this book. For many years I have been aware of the.changes in agricultural policy and practice that have changed how farmers and others provide the food that Americans eat. Recently, I have been watching a number of British television shows about the farming practices in that country, and find myself startled by how personal farming still is for even the even the largest farmers/suppliers there.

Grace Olmsted wrote this book partly as personal research to help her decide whether to move back to the rural place where she grew up. A major part of that investigation revolves around the research she does into the lives of her forebears and distant relations, and how the changing nature of agriculture has impacted their lives.

My politics are fairly aligned with those of the author; I think readers who disagree with her might not enjoy this book as much. However, all in all, I think it is a good way of personalizing a trend that has greatly altered the way food is grown and delivered in the US.

thanks to NetGalley and the publishers for providing me with an advanced reading copy.

Uprooted explores the authors trip back to revisit a town from her distant past that she remembers fondly. While there she interviews family and those that shaped the town, that shaped the person she has become.

We’re excited for this new book “Uprooted” by Grace Olmstead. We’re very much enjoying the review copy provided by #netgalley.

We know many of you like Wendell Berry, so this is right up your alley — all about finding value in a sense of place and “rootedness,” and how to preserve those values in a changing world. An incredibly thoughtful and enjoyable read.

You grow up. You leave the confines of home and hometown to make your way in the big world. You don’t come back. That narrative for success has permeated small town America for decades. And in her first book, Uprooted (due out on March 16th), Grace Olmstead demonstrates how we live out that story at our peril. Not just individually, as rootless people without deep ties to place, but as places themselves no longer sustain life. Olmstead shows readers the landscape of our loss. Soil robbed of nutrients by devastating monocrop farming, and ag land paved over by suburban sprawl. Once healthy towns whose thriving small businesses withered like ghosts. Communities that no longer have centers of activity, but become shopping strips and victims of suburban sprawl. And Olmstead also makes the pain personal, taking us to her hometown of Emmett, Idaho, profiling her family’s history there alongside others who loved and worked the land and were cornerstones of community life. Olmstead, like so many of us, left home, and with each visit back she’s confronted by irrefutable evidence of decline. Where some would only see disaster in the wake of agribusinesses’ insatiable hunger, Olmstead employs her journalistic training to find and profiles those who refuse to give up, documenting the small strides of tenacious farmers fighting to revitalize the land and community. By book’s end Olmstead contemplates what returning to her hometown. Would her presence have any positive impact, or is she better off “sticking” in Virginia, putting down roots and consciously become a contributor to community life there? There are no easy answers for Olmstead, or us. But no matter where you live, the questions are worth exploring in this provocative and engaging read. As Olmstead makes clear, agricultural policy, suburban sprawl, brain drain, and small town collapse impact our country and all of us personally—whether we knew it or not.

Jackson, MI. In “The Custom-House,” his prefatory essay to The Scarlet Letter, Nathaniel Hawthorne wrestles with his generational roots in Salem. One of his ancestors, infamously, presided over the Salem witch trials here, and he now finds himself appointed to a government position at the Salem Custom House. But while Hawthorne concludes (wrongly, as it turns out) that he is destined to “make Salem my home,” he worries that this long family connection to the place is “an unhealthy one” and should be broken: “Human nature will not flourish, any more than a potato, if it be planted and replanted, for too long a series of generations, in the same worn-out soil. My children have had other birthplaces, and, so far as their fortunes may be within my control, shall strike their roots into unaccustomed earth.” This sentiment expresses an axiom in American, settler culture: the way to maximize individual opportunity and flourishing is to seek out richer soil. In an indication of the enduring power of this idea, Hawthorne’s resonant concluding phrase—his desire for his children to strike their roots into unaccustomed earth—forms the title for a rich collection of short stories by Jhumpa Lahiri about the lives of Indian immigrants seeking to plant themselves in unaccustomed American soil....

Full review will appear here: www.frontporchrepublic.com/tending-the-soil-of-our-homes-gracy-olmsteads-paean-to-roots

The topic of this book, as should be obvious from the title is about the phenomenon of being uprooted that a the ease with which movement of populations can occur is making more a reality of life for a large segment of society. Job availability, educational opportunity, or perhaps pure adventure-seeking desire propels people to leave their birth-place in search of a better place. While this is understandable and has had positive outcomes, such as a decrease in prejudice as one becomes familiar with varying people and begins to sense the oneness of mankind, it also has its own fair share of challenges which this book explores. It is a timely topic. I would recommend this book for anyone in search of home. For this reason,