Persnickety Perusals
A Book Review Of "Nomadland," Complete With Personal Insights On The Nomadic Lifestyle
"What parts of this life are you willing to give up, so you can keep on living?"
I had read my way almost completely through, Nomadland: Surviving America In The Twenty-First Century by Jessica Bruder before I happened upon the above profound question. The entire book surveys various people's situations from the point of view of this weighty musing.
The author of this particular tale is an investigative journalist "whose work focuses on subcultures and the dark corners of the economy." Nomadland explores the world of "workcampers," migrant laborers who move about the US working and surviving not as homeless folks but as houseless people. She delves us readers into the world of these mobile home dwelling nomads through the story of her protagonist, Linda.
Linda's story takes us from the ranks of Amazon's Camperforce program, to the sugar beet fields of the Red River Valley. We get a glimpse into the life of a campground camp host and share in the experience that is Quartzsite, Arizona, a gathering place for those that live a mobile lifestyle. Linda and her tale is an overview at what life is like for the many Americans that have foregone the "American Dream" and taken up a less is more mobile approach to life.
Bruder's narrative doesn't hold back, and if you want to read a tale that smacks the imagination with the visual empathy stick then you will probably enjoy her workcamper treatise. Her feelings regarding wage disparity bleeds through in her writing, but her genuine regard for the subjects of her in depth survey is present as well. She even goes as far as immersing herself into the workcamper world, just so she can better understand them.
One thing that I found especially fascinating was the section of the tale that described Amazon's warehouses and how orders are processed. A lot happens when you click that order now button, and I always think it is a good thing to know just how much it costs and impacts people when you purchase something. The same thing goes for the sugar beet section of the book. It kind of messed with my feelers a bit to think that people my grandparent's age are shoveling sugar beets into an apparatus that they sometimes have to CRAWL up into and remove mud from. That little sugar bag in the store just doesn't tell its story, that's for sure.
In fact, throughout the book I noticed that people were quoted talking about how free they felt they were, how happy they were with less. As a fellow believer in the make do, use less camp, I understand the sentiment, but you can't tell me that you ever fully experience a sense of security when you are always aware, in the back of your mind, that you'll have to move on. When you are a nomad there's always going to be a cop to tap on your window if you are stealth camping, a business owner telling you to move on, a BLM agent letting you know that your fourteen day stay is over, or a temp job that is going to end and you'll have to vacate your home space.
I understand this lack of spatial security pretty well, for if you average it out, I moved once every nine months the first eighteen years of my life. My father was a seasonal worker, a timberfaller. My family was displaced by the spotted owl fracas. Dad was out of work every winter, a time we so aptly referred to as "unenjoyment." We never lived in a van, but I lived in lots of trailers!
One part of the story tells of Linda's daughter getting evicted from her home and she had to tell her teenage daughters that they could only have a rubber bin full of personal items each, for they were going to move into a motor home. That line hit home, for I lived out of two rubber bins my entire adolescence. I also attended four high schools, now there's some upheaval! Whenever we mourned about moving, Dad always joked, "Well, I could be like Uncle Otis, he always quit a job when his employers started calling him by his first name!" (Uncle Otis is family legend, I am pretty sure that he died on the side of the road.)
Both my husband and I didn't grow up in the most stable home situations, and we have both worked incredibly hard and gone without to make sure that our kids have a home. It's not fancy, but it's secure, safe, and ours. I make sure that I have the children travel and go through situations that could cause discomfort so they are prepared for life, but I often wonder if given the choice, would a houseless person choose a house or stay on the road. As a nomad at my core, I would be completely content living in a tiny space, wandering from scene to scene, and let me tell you, that upbringing has molded me, for I honestly have absolutely no emotional attachment to any material thing. I pretty much feel like any thing around me could disappear at any time. It's taken me years to achieve a modicum of comfort in this home that I worked hard for, and I enjoy it.
In the end, if you are looking for a book that shines light on a rather large (and growing) subset of American culture, then this book is worth a look. I have to admit I was riveted by this tale of transient workers and how they lived their lives!
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I completely identify with that sentiment.
Though we have not moved often, there is just no reason in my mind to hold on to things for our offspring. Maybe all the yard sales my mother took us to made an impact.
Ah, I have a feeling that your mother and my mother and grandmother would get along, lol! I spent a lot of time at yard sales!
I'd most definitely rather hold onto the offspring than things for them😊
That sounds like a book that would interest me, and I'm sure my local librarian can obtain it for me. :) All I have to do is study a map and I get the urge to travel. But I've come to realize I like the idea of travel more than the realities of travel, especially now that I am older and exceptionally fond of sleeping in my own bed. Of course, if I was living out of a travel trailer I would be bringing my own bed with me, so perhaps that wouldn't be so bad. I would have to trade in my 1890s-era upright piano for an electronic keyboard, though, or else suffer from piano-playing withdrawals.
So, I wrote this cutesy little comment, but Steemit ate it! Oh dear.
I am most definitely sure that the book could be procured for you, and I would absolutely adore reading the tales of a traveling @scribblinggramma with a cat and keyboard in tow!
Good!!