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America's obsession with that green patch in the yard
An environmental historian ponders the cultural significance of the lawn in suburban America.
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He specifically ties the lawn aesthetic to roots in post World War II conformity and consumerism and spends very little time discussing the lawn's roots in 19th-century gardening. In fact, his story entirely emphasizes the cultural history, eschewing the horticulture, planning, and architecture that informs other scholars' treatment of the lawn.
When read through this cultural lens, lawns become an instrument of planned homogeneity. As Americans sought to fit in with one another during the cold war, writes Steinberg, "...what better way to conform than to make your front yard look precisely like Mr. Smith's next door?"
Just having a lawn was insufficient; the quest was to have the perfect lawn. "Perfection is elusive," says Steinberg. "And it constantly creates the need for people to return to the hardware store to buy more chemical inputs.... ."
This conformity was made achievable and perpetuated through technology (chemicals, biotechnology, and mower technology) and marketed through sporting activities (sports fields and Astro-turf as well as golf and the sales of Scotts Turfbuilder). Steinberg attaches engaging stories to each portion of the lawn's history.
In his story of the lawn, the social and ecological factors often worked in coordination. Perfection became a commodity of post-World War II prefabricated housing such as Levittown, N. Y., in the late 1940s. Mowing became a priority of the bylaws of such communities.
"By keeping the grass from flowering and going to seed," writes Steinberg, "mowing forecloses on sexual reproduction." Instead, the plants send out a web of underground shoots. "The result is a thick carpet of grass otherwise known as a lawn." Less a natural element, though, Steinberg persuasively argues that the high-energy American lawn (requiring significant inputs of petroleum, water, and human energy) is more like manufactured products such as fast-food meals than to natural forms.
The story of our quest leads Steinberg to an almost inevitable conclusion. By the last chapter, Steinberg sings the praises of "brown," unkempt lawns and the homeowners who are willing to defy cultural mores. "Ultimately, the perfect lawn, like the perfect body, is an illusion," he writes,.
In the end, though, many of the cultural questions raised by Steinberg have no easy answers. Simply, many Americans would never consider ridding their property of grass. Clearly, though, the immensely readable and enjoyable "American Green" helps us to better consider the questions we ask of one of the most ordinary portions of the American landscape.
• Brian Black teaches history and environmental studies at Pennsylvania State University.
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