Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants

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Most purchases from business sellers are protected by the Consumer Contract Regulations 2013 which give you the right to cancel the purchase within 14 days after the day you receive the item. Powerful book with lots of indigenous wisdom related to science, gratitude, and how we relate to the land. While reading this, I thought of how my mother had had asthma as a child but my grandfather, who was very familiar with traditional African medicine (which was of course seen as backwards by Western medicine) knew which plant medicine to give my mother. Beautiful examples of symbiosis between plants, animals, and humans are revealed through the author's poetic dance between indigenous stories and ecological science.

Robin Wall Kimmerer argues that science can be infused with folklore, stories, and history to enrich it and enhance it. Ultimately, though, my biggest criticism of the book is its over-reliance on spirituality as a solution to very material problems. What is conspicuously absent from Kimmerer’s book is any meaningful references to the Indigenous experience in this country. I once knew and loved a man who lived most of his life in the city, but when he was dragged off to the ocean or the woods he seemed to enjoy it well enough--as long as he could find an internet connection.

She also glorifies wood as a "renewable" fuel source, ignoring the fact that wood produces carbon emissions worse than coal, and is terrible for ambient air quality.

In Braiding Sweetgrass, Kimmerer brings these two lenses of knowledge together to take us on "a journey that is every bit as mythic as it is scientific, as sacred as it is historical, as clever as it is wise" (Elizabeth Gilbert). Beautifully bound with a new cover featuring an engraving by Tony Drehfal, this edition includes a bookmark ribbon and five brilliantly colored illustrations by artist Nate Christopherson. She reminds readers that we are showered every day with gifts, but they are not meant for us to keep.I read this book with a roomful of Indigenous students, most of them women, and we all had problems with how Kimmerer represents Indigenous oral tradition, ceremonial knowledge, and the Indigenous experience in contemporary American society. After all, according to most Indigenous oral traditions, if you are a part, meaning a relative, of any Indigenous community, then you know that your people’s teachings are meant only for you and your tribe. The author’s journey to relearn her Potawatomi heritage and synthesize it with her scientific/teaching career in plant ecology was the perfect format for a reader even more disconnected from the land and culture.

My grandfather passed away and I wonder who has the knowledge of the herb that cured my mother's asthma. I can't blame her for recommending the book to me at that point, however upon finishing it, I spared her the time I wasted and told her there is no sense finishing the book. I am so glad I bought this book, because though I seldom re-read I can see myself picking this book up and reading a chapter, pretty much any chapter, and reminding myself of all I have. It has me rethinking my own relationship to consumption and the land, and what that means as someone living in an urban center.

Braiding Sweetgrass explores reciprocal relationships between humans and the land, with a focus on the role of plants and botany in both Native American and Western traditions. Her respect and gratitude for all aspects of nature comes through loud and clear and so does our responsibility to reciprocate what nature provides. Kimmerer) (born 1953) is Associate Professor of Environmental and Forest Biology at the State University of New York College of Environmental Science and Forestry (SUNY-ESF). But I found myself particularly bothered in this case, because there is an attitude pervading this book that the degradation of nature is their fault. They bring home a huge deer for everyone to eat saying "I don't even know how to shoot an arrow -- this just accidentally happened.