Thoughts on The Incredible Journey of Plants
The Incredible Journey of Plants by Stefano Mancuso
I picked up this book in Florida over the summer, paying little attention to its summary before purchasing. My expectation was to broaden my understanding of plant communication, how their history is intertwined with that of humans, and (fingers crossed) that of what we eat. That happened, and so did a few things that I didn’t expect.
Mancuso’s ultimate thesis is that the characteristics humans attribute to general intelligence are characteristics also owned by plants. Below are a few sentences to kick us off.
“The qualities that make plans invasive are numerous. Let’s recall some of them: great ability to spread their seeds; rapid growth; the capacity to alter their form in response to environmental conditions; tolerance of multiple kinds of stress; capacity of associating with humans. All in all, these are the characteristics that make a species efficient, flexible, and resistant, capable of resolving all the problems that each new environmental situation might pose” (p.28).
I quickly realized that it was much more scientific than I’d hoped, but worth the four hours of my time that it took to read. It wasn’t an exhilarating read, but I’m thankful for the knowledge I acquired. Below are a few food-related notes so that you can gauge your interest in reading the full book.
Hibakujumoku is a phrase use to refer to escapees (plants, not humans) from the atomic bomb. “A living hymn to the force of life,” as a collection of trees (ginkgo, Japanese black pine, and muku) stand within 5,000 feet of the site of the attack (some as close as 1,400 feet) (p.17). The hibakujumoku have a following of people who continually visit to pay respects. It’s something I wish I’d known of before visiting Japan in 2019.
Tomatoes, or at least the earlier, yellow version, were brought from the stretch between Mexico and Peru to Europe in 1540. It arrived in Italy in 1544. After the first record of an “lustily red” tomato in 1572, the tomato began to gain traction as a respectable food. “It began to be used for nutritional purposes. But slowly. So slowly that the first recipe for [Italy’s] national dish, pasta with tomato, would not appear until the first half of the nineteenth century” (p.26).
Basil, originally from India, came to Europe with Alexander the Great in 350 BCE, only to become accepted in the eighteenth century after overcoming much misinformation in the community (p.27).
The date palms of Masada have a legacy worth knowing. Date plans were abundant in the early days of Palestine, and “the dates of Judea were among the most sought-after products of the entire area” (p.92). There’s little history between that period and the year 1100, during the excavation of the fortress of Masada, when the seeds were found. Around 2005, two researchers decided to attempt to germinate the seeds (from sometime between 155 BCE and 64 CE). Therefore, two thousand years after the seed was created, it germinated.
Another form of natural preservation is through the stomachs or dens of animals, frozen within ice for thousands of years, then discovered and studied. A squirrel den in Pushchino (near Moscow) yielded seeds and fruit from about 39,000 years back. The seeds didn’t germinate, but showed promising signs of life (p.97). That one blew my mind.
Ten-foot armadillos, known as Glyptodons, used to exist, and were some of the only creatures able to swallow avocados, therefore, preserving and spreading the seeds. Glad we missed out on that stretch. While you’re at it, look up the Megatherium (sloths equivalent to elephants).
Avocados were on their way out following the extinction of the above animals, along with a few others, until the jaguar discovered the fruit and supported its existence until the fruit was discovered by humans. Now, it’s clearly abundant. “In 2016, the land area devoted to avocado cultivation amounted to more than 1,360,000 acres, spread over all the continents—an apparently unstoppable success” (p.139).
One last takeaway that I’ll leave with you: Plants without seeds become products of the food industry rather than living beings. Without genetic diversity of plants, any given plant becomes a daughter plant (a genetic clone of its mother), making it extremely vulnerable to being wiped out completely. The latest example is the banana, which has recently seen a disease that threatens the existence of most of the world’s bananas.
“On a closer look, the invasive plants of today are the native flora of the future, just as the invasive species of the past are a fundamental part of our ecosystem today…The species that we consider invasive today are the natives of tomorrow” (p.27).
