Gardening discourses

Anthony Huxley

There are two major classes of gardening book — the reference work and the discursive one. The first treats its subjects alphabetically, maybe with tabulations which try to link the disparate kinds so that you can pick up their attributes at a glance — in theory, for a table encapsulating every garden tree, for example, is virtually im- possible to use. The discursive book has limited reference possibility — the index can take you to a dozen different pages for a given plant, and the relevant matter does not stand out.

Robin Lane Fox's new book, published by himself and distributed by Croom Helm, aims to take the reader conversationally through better trees, better shrubs, better border plants, better bulbs and better alpines. It is a truism that a poor or ordinary variety takes up as much garden room, and needs as much care, as a good one, and the author's aim is to get us to plant the good ones always. Good, inciden- tally, need not mean rare; some of the best- loved, commonest plants are the best of their kind.

Lane Fox's final chapter, 'My Best Garden', is about Sissinghurst. (Corny, you may say — everyone knows and raves about Sissinghurst — but it is still one of the very best in Britain without a doubt). And at the end of this account, there is a quotation from a letter to Vita Sackville-West from her husband: 'I think the secret of your gardening is simply that you have the courage to abolish ugly and unsuccessful flowers.' That secret is the moral of this book — and how few of us have that courage!

As discursive books go, this one is quite good for reference via the index since each kind of plant is dealt with once only. Discursiveness certainly allows for critical evaluation of each group as well as in- teresting cultural points, remarks on habitats in the wild or gardens where the plants grow well. Also, and importantly in a curious sort of way, the treatment allows that author to bring out his own tastes more strongly than in the orthodox reference book. These tastes may not always be yours nor mine, but they give a sense of purpose and emphasise the author's experience, love of his plants and gardening in general, plus a touch of humour.

As a pedant in such matters, I regret Mr Lane Fox's non-use of italics for Latin names — they help to clarify things when one is trying to locate an esoteric plant. I would point out that mundi is not a species of Rosa — the variety Rosa Mundi is a pun on the name Rosamond. Lotuses don't float, and mare's tail is an innocuous water plant — horsetail is the name for the deadly weed equisetum (as the Latin suggests).

These are trivial points: it really is a good book to browse through and make notes from, and if you take half Robin Lane Fox's advice you will certainly have a better garden. And I must not forget, there is a colour section with 32 excellent plant por- traits and associations.

Garden Thoughts is a discursive book of a much more random kind. Its author, an American writer married to a Hungarian Baron who lost his estates in the second war, has lived and gardened in Connecticut for 30 years. Her excuse for the book — 'a writer who gardens is sooner or later going

to write a book about the subject . . . one is eventually overtaken by the desire to pass it all on.'

Then she makes a remark curious to British gardening ears, or eyes: 'As I look about me, I have reason to believe I belong to a vanishing species. Gardens like mine, which go by the unpleasing name of "labour intensive", are on their way out and before they go, I would like to con- tribute my penny's worth to their history.'

In Britain most single-handed gardeners like their gardens 'labour intensive; there's no sign of change, as I shall return to later. At least this means we can benefit from Eleanor Perthyi's 'green thoughts' (the phrase of course, though unacknowledged here, comes from Marvell's marvellous poem 'The Garden').

These 'thoughts' are arranged alphabetically under sometimes quaint headings ranging from the simple 'Dahlias and 'Potatoes' to 'Longevity', 'Help' (of the garden sort — non-existent), 'Making • Notes' and 'Woman's Place' — the last a startling account of sexism in gardening over the ages. Most of these short chapters or sections reflect personal experience; there's a lovely account of illegally impor- ting tubers of a salad potato called Jaune d'Hollande from Paris only to have a friend find the same locally available as German Fingerlings. Some, like 'Pruning', are more in the nature of contrived essays, penetrating fascinating areas of history and literature.

One does not turn to a book like this for use but for entertainment, to agree sagely or maybe to criticise. The advice and sug- gestions are interesting and often valuable, and mostly as applicable in the UK as the US. Often it reflects our own experience, like the author's remarks on supporting plants where no system is perfect; there Is no conclusion but one smiles wryly at the accuracy of the analysis. Much is unex- pected, some as I have suggested based on breadth of reading and culture, some on horticultural ignorance, some on experience which builds up to question traditional judgments. The writing is brisk, even a bit sharp sometimes. I don't usually like this kind of book but I have browsed irresistiblY in this one.

My last volume to hand, The Englishman's Garden, is the inevitable follow-up to the surprisingly successful The Englishwoman's Garden (produced by a different publisher two years ago). The plan, format and general look are the same although the layout is not identical. Each quite short chapter by the owner of a garden is introduced with a half-tone photograph followed by several colour pic- tures — most, if not quite all, of excellent quality. We are again given those delightful line vignettes of the houses concerned at the start of each piece. There are incidentally 33 gentlemen concerned; there were 36 ladY, gardeners, I note — have the ladies won't Some of the garden owners are hor- ticultural professionals but most have very

different vocations — and I do not think You can tell! Some of these gardeners should go down in gardening history, but it would be invidious to name names.

On the basis of this testimony there is no clear-cut 'English style' apparent today. There are echoes of the Edwardian, hints of the Victorian, quite a lot of topiary and hedge-clipping, a touch of the classical and another of the gothic. Certainly nothing ultra-modern' in the stark, functional sense of that misused epithet. Such a Possibility, which has been developed in the United States, would deter the British love for plants which clearly transcends all, creating marvellous effects which must, alas, be relatively short-lived; without a great deal of luck, most of these Englishmen's gardens will not long outstay their makers.

So we return to Eleanor Perenyi's `labour intensive' gardening and Robin Lane Fox's theme entirely on plant choice. That reflects British gardening since Rep- ton's time, I suppose, and it shows no sign of change.