The Barnes & Noble Review
Michael Pollan's In Defense of Food: An Eater's Manifesto, the follow-up to his widely praised The Omnivore's Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals, should probably come with a warning: After reading this book, you may never shop, cook, or eat the same way again.
Or maybe that's a promise. Pollan contends, quite persuasively, that we who partake in a Western diet could stand to make a few serious changes in our approach to food. In fact, in 201 easily digestible pages, Pollan lays out the evidence that our very lives may depend on it. That goes double for you Coca-Cola drinkers, triple for you Twinkie lovers. And if you think you're safe just because you rarely sample the goods in the supermarket snack section, well, put down that "heart-healthy" name-brand loaf of bread and stop smirking: Pollan maintains that you too are likely a victim of what he's termed the Nutritional Industrial Complex.
Cancer, cardiovascular diseases, diabetes, obesity -- they plague us in the West more than they do any other culture. Pollan believes these health troubles are a direct result of how we eat. "The chronic diseases that now kill most of us can be traced directly to the industrialization of our food: the rise of highly processed foods and refined grains; the use of chemicals to raise plants and animals in huge monocultures; the superabundance of cheap calories of sugar and fat produced by modern agriculture; and the narrowing of the biological diversity of the human diet to a tiny handful of staple crops, notably wheat, corn, and soy," Pollan writes. "These changes have given us the Western diet that we take for granted: lots of processed foods and meat, lots of added fat and sugar, lots of every thing -- except vegetables, fruits, and whole grains."
The antidote? "Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants," Pollan prescribes in the book's very first line: seemingly simple advice he then unpacks like a natural-fiber shopping bag chock-full of the freshest seasonal ingredients. Alas, that advice, like those ingredients, may come at a prohibitively steep price for some readers.
In Defense of Food covers ground that may feel familiar to readers who devoured 2006's Omnivore's Dilemma. Yet while that book approached our culture's relationship to food from an ecological point of view, here Pollan explores its impact on our health -- and aims answer a question from hungry readers: "What should I eat?"
Pollan divides this book into three sections: The first, "The Age of Nutritionism," examines the near disappearance of unprocessed food -- or as Pollan terms it, simply, "food" -- from our friendly neighborhood grocery store. Taking its place is a panoply of processed food products with labels colorfully conspiring to convince the consumer just how "healthy" they are: "Hyphens [have] sprouted like dandelions in the supermarket aisles: low-fat, no-cholesterol, high-fiber," Pollan observes.
He pins the rise of "nutritionism," which he defines as "the widely shared but unexamined assumption" that "foods are essentially the sum of their nutrient parts," on well-meaning, if clueless, scientists prone to a "reductionist" way of thinking, food marketers "eager to exploit every shift in the nutritional consensus," and a government that panders to the food industry:
Together…they have constructed an ideology of nutritionism that, among other things, has convinced us of three pernicious myths: that what matters most is not the food but the 'nutrient'; that because nutrients are invisible and incomprehensible to everyone but scientists, we need expert help in deciding what to eat; and that the purpose of eating is to promote a narrow concept of physical health.
Despite the fact that we have become a nation of what Pollan calls "orthorexics" -- people unhealthily obsessed with the concept of healthy food -- our ability to distinguish good food from bad has apparently slid away from us like a pat of "vitamin-enriched" margarine off a stack of pancakes.
The result? "Thirty years of nutritional advice have left us fatter, sicker, and more poorly nourished," Pollan contends. "Which is why we find ourselves in the predicament we do: in need of a whole new way to think about eating."
In the book's third section, "Getting Over Nutritionism," Pollan lays out a detailed plan for readers to "escape from the Western diet" and -- to a surprising degree -- put their money where their mouths are. It is here where the book may most frustrate the well-meaning reader who does not have a pile of spare cash to put toward organic-farm-fresh foods, scads of spare time and space to grow his own vegetables, or access to high-end grocery stores. It is also here that Pollan shows his elitist outlook.
To be fair, much of Pollan's advice is sound and presumably something all of us can do: "Shop the peripheries of the supermarket" -- the produce, dairy, meat, and fish sections -- "and stay out of the middle" -- soda-and-snackville; "Eat slowly," "Do all your eating at a table." And some of the advice -- "Avoid food products containing ingredients that are a) unfamiliar, b) unpronounceable, c) more than five in number or that include d) high-fructose corn syrup," for instance -- is not as easy to follow as it sounds (high-fructose corn syrup is everywhere), yet still seems like a fine rule of thumb.
But "Eat well-grown food from healthy soils" (essentially, eat "organic"), "Pay more, eat less," "Cook and, if you can, plant a garden"? Not all of us can pay the premium to eat only organic fruits, vegetables and dairy products -- and meat from animals that are "pastured" or "100% grass-fed," as Pollan advises. Not all of us can afford to buy a home with land for a garden or to take the time to tend it. And certainly not all of us can afford to pay significantly more for our food. (Pollan makes a half-hearted effort to convince us that we'll make up the money in health-care costs, but he provides little evidence to support this theory.)
To some extent, Pollan acknowledges his elitist bent: "There's no escaping the fact that better food -- whether measured by taste of nutritional quality (which often correspond) -- costs more, usually because it has been grown with more care and less intensively," he writes. "Not everyone can afford to eat high-quality food in America, and that is shameful; however, those of us who can, should. Doing so benefits not only your health (by among other things, reducing your exposure to pesticides and pharmaceuticals), but also the health of the people who grow the food as well as the people who live downstream and downwind of the farms where it is grown."
In other instances, he comes across as fairly oblivious -- as when he suggests that planting a garden is an affordable solution for people who can't afford to buy organic. "The food you grow yourself is fresher than any you can buy, and it costs nothing but an hour or two of work each week plus the price of a few packets of seed." He makes no mention of the cost of the land on which to plant that affordable garden.
Then there's this sucker punch aimed at the unenlightened consumer, in the midst of a misty-eyed, damp-browed passage about the joys -- nay, the "subversive act" -- of cooking from scratch and growing your own food: "Unless, that is, you're the kind of cook who starts with a can of Campbell's cream of mushroom soup, in which case all bets are off."
Oof!
And yet … and yet … one can't help but feel that, if we regard Pollan's recommendations as an admirable, if somewhat unreachable, goal and make more conscious choices when we shop, cook and eat, we may be healthier -- and happier -- for it. But if you plan to follow this book as a recipe for living, you'll definitely want to add a pinch of salt. --
Amy Reiter
Amy Reiter is an editor at Salon.
She has also written for The New York Times Book Review, The Washington Post Book World, Wine Spectator,
and Glamour,
among other publications.
From the Publisher
The companion volume to The New York Times bestseller The Omnivore's Dilemma
Michael Pollan's lastbook , The Omnivore's Dilemma, launched a national conversation about the American way of eating; now In Defense of Food shows us how to change it, one meal at a time. Pollan proposes a new answer to the question of what we should eat that comes down to seven simple but liberating words: Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants. Pollan's bracing and eloquent manifesto shows us how we can start making thoughtful food choices that will enrich our lives, enlarge our sense of what it means to be healthy, and bring pleasure back to eating.
The New York Times -
Janet Maslin
…a tough, witty, cogent rebuttal to the proposition that food can be reduced to its nutritional components without the loss of something essential…In this lively, invaluable book—which grew out of an essay Mr. Pollan wrote for The New York Times Magazine, for which he is a contributing writer—he assails some of the most fundamental tenets of nutritionism: that food is simply the sum of its parts, that the effects of individual nutrients can be scientifically measured, that the primary purpose of eating is to maintain health, and that eating requires expert advice…Some of this reasoning turned up in Mr. Pollan's best-selling Omnivore's Dilemma. But In Defense of Food is a simpler, blunter and more pragmatic book, one that really lives up to the "manifesto" in its subtitle.
The Washington Post -
Jane Black
…in this slim, remarkable volume, Pollan builds a convincing case not only against that steak dinner but against the entire Western diet. Over the last half-century, Pollan argues, real food has started to disappear, replaced by processed foods designed to include nutrients. Those component parts, he says, are understood only by scientists and exploited by food marketers who thrive on introducing new products that hawk fiber, omega-3 fatty acids or whatever else happens to be in vogue…what makes Pollan's latest so engrossing is his tone: curious and patient as he explains the flaws in epidemiological studies that have buttressed nutritionism for 30 years, and entirely without condescension as he offers those prescriptions Americans so desperately crave. That's no easy feat in a book of this kind.
Publishers Weekly
In his hugely influential treatise The Omnivore's Dilemma, Pollan traced a direct line between the industrialization of our food supply and the degradation of the environment. His new book takes up where the previous work left off. Examining the question of what to eat from the perspective of health, this powerfully argued, thoroughly researched and elegant manifesto cuts straight to the chase with a maxim that is deceptively simple: "Eat food, not too much, mostly plants." But as Pollan explains, "food" in a country that is driven by "a thirty-two billion-dollar marketing machine" is both a loaded term and, in its purest sense, a holy grail. The first section of his three-part essay refutes the authority of the diet bullies, pointing up the confluence of interests among manufacturers of processed foods, marketers and nutritional scientists-a cabal whose nutritional advice has given rise to "a notably unhealthy preoccupation with nutrition and diet and the idea of eating healthily." The second portion vivisects the Western diet, questioning, among other sacred cows, the idea that dietary fat leads to chronic illness. A writer of great subtlety, Pollan doesn't preach to the choir; in fact, rarely does he preach at all, preferring to lets the facts speak for themselves. (Jan.)
Copyright 2007 Reed Business Information
Publishers Weekly
Pollan provides another shocking yet essential treatise on the industrialized "Western diet" and its detrimental effects on our bodies and culture. Here he lays siege to the food industry and scientists' attempts to reduce food and the cultural practices of eating into bite-size concepts known as nutrients, and contemplates the follies of doing so. As an increasing number of Americans are overfed and undernourished, Pollan makes a strong argument for serious reconsideration of our eating habits and casts a suspicious eye on the food industry and its more pernicious and misleading practices. Listeners will undoubtedly find themselves reconsidering their own eating habits. Scott Brick, who narrated Pollan's The Omnivore's Dilemma, carries forward the same tone and consistency, thus creating a narrative continuity between the two books. Brick renders the text with an expert's skill, delivering well-timed pauses and accurate emphasis. He executes Pollan's asides and sarcasm with an uncanny ability that makes listening infinitely better than reading. So compelling is his tone, listeners may have trouble discerning whether Brick's conviction or talent drives his powerful performance. Simultaneous release with the Penguin Press hardcover (Reviews, Nov. 26). (Dec.)
Copyright 2007Reed Business Information
(102 ratings)
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