The Signature of All Things

What can I say I greatly admire Elizabeth Gilbert's writing and this is a real cracker of a book. There is a fair amount of controversy about whether Darwin was the originator of the theory of evolution or he stole Wallace's proposal. A number of scientist give both individuals equal credit. What if a third person came up with the theory of evolution? Even more that person was female. That is the premise of this book and it makes for a wonderful story. The writing is elegant and the story is compelling. Maybe I should have given it 5 Stars.

This book has me torn. On one hand, it was beautifully written. Gilbert's writing style is descriptive and flows easily, I found myself savoring certain passages. The descriptions of botany and intellectual pursuits were wonderful and inspiring, I loved reading about the gardens, and at times I found Alma's dedication to her work and her responsibilities to be inspiring.

On the other hand, there are statements like this peppered throughout that I felt were ignorant and unnecessary:

“The kings of Hawaii were angry, and the natives were thieving and aggressive.”

For context, the author is describing the voyages of Captain Cook, a violent colonizer, and framing Cook as a noble, honorable explorer in contrast to the “thieving and aggressive” native Hawaiians who were, rightfully, defending their land and their people. This isn't the point of view of a specific character. This is part of the narration, which brings up many questions regarding the author's ethics.

Moments like this mar the remainder of the story for me. There's a passage near the middle where Alma reflects on her sister's abolitionist efforts, and how this isn't something that interests her because there are “so many other concerns” (page 190 Kindle edition). Somehow we are supposed to feel for this character, an absurdly wealthy and privileged woman who views the study of moss as a more noble and important pursuit than the abolition of slavery. These are just two brief examples of many questionable statements and moments throughout the story, which reads as a love letter to colonization, missionaries, and the ‘noble pursuits' of the white upper class.

Finally, there is the issue of the plot itself. To put it simply, Alma is the least interesting character in this story. We are given an interesting look into Henry Whittaker's life story as a self-made man, Beatrix whose intellect and work ethic make Henry's life possible, Prudence who has a tragic childhood yet remains unwaveringly kind and a champion of human rights throughout, Retta with her bubbly personality and tragic madness, George, Ambrose, even Hanneke de Groot. All of these characters are given more dimension, personality, and life than Alma.

Granted, she is not entirely uninteresting, as an intelligent woman making a name for herself in a male-oriented field. However, all the reasons why we should feel something for her fall flat. We're reminded constantly that she's plain, that she doesn't know how to socialize properly (this is nobody's fault but hers, as she was raised alongside Prudence who does perfectly well), and that ‘no man will ever want her'. Yet she is still described as the richest woman in North America, with endless resources at her disposal. She could easily change her circumstances, but seems more focused on masturbating and lamenting her lack of beauty.

The emotional climax of the story - no pun intended - is when Alma gives Tomorrow Morning a blowjob, which is described as what she's sought after her entire life. In short, this was disappointing.

The only reason I didn't give up on this book was because of the botany. However, if you don't have an interest in botany, this may be a pass.

4.5 stars! I was not a fan of Eat, Pray, Love - so entered into this with much trepidation. My foray into the unknown was rewarded however, it was gorgeous, sumptuous and rich satisfied sigh

It started out okay, and it hits one of my sweet spots after all, by being the life-story of a scientifically-minded 19th-century woman obsessed with botany, but then I first grew tired of Gilbert's over-florid over-cheeky unnecessarily-long prose, that stretched my patience very thin occasionally, and then I also started to dislike the heroine more and more. Her ignorance, her obsessions and fixations just grew boring. And in the end the narrative also forced her into being another Alfred Russel Wallace. I just eyerolled along at her stubborn insistence to not publish, just in time for Darwin to publish his, of course. As always, I mainly finished this at all, because I did the audiobook.

It's very rare that I get choked up at the end of a book, and even more rare that I get choked up for any reason other than a dog dying. But Gilbert managed to drum up that pregnant feeling in the back of my throat - the feeling that I had unveiled something truly beautiful.

I'll admit, I was skeptical that Gilbert would excel as a fiction writer in the same way she does in her memoirs/non-fiction (this is the first piece of fiction I have read of hers). However, she seamlessly adopts the voice of a 19th-century narrator with such deft, I would never have known this was not indeed written during that century.

Following the heritage and life of Alma Whittaker, a spinsterish, wealthy botanist (and manager of her curmudgeon-y father's estate) living in Philadelphia in the early-mid 1800's. Though a true scientist through and through (no frills, only logic), Gilbert lends a certain sensibility to Alma's consciousness that lights up a true fascination and passion for nature wherever she finds is, be that the grandest of the Tahitian mountains, or the smallest patch of moss; each contains a world of wonder unto themselves. She's an unlikely heroine, especially as she is often cold and unlikeable... yet, though she is plagued with despairing human disappointments and sadnesses, she strives on, sturdy and unrelenting, finding peace in nature, faith in the world just as it is - “You see, I have never felt the need to invent a world beyond this world, for this world has always seemed large and beautiful enough for me. I have wondered why it is not large and beautiful enough for others...We are all different, I suppose. All I ever wanted to know was this world.”

I cannot recommend this book enough, especially for lovers of science, nature, and historical fiction (the latter which, I admit, I generally don't really like). The writing is truly beautiful, and I promise you won't be disappointed.

This book showed such promise at times that I trudged through it, but it never quite managed to redeem itself. I finished it feeling like nothing much had happened in the previous 500 pages, despite a story that spanned several continents and over a hundred years. I felt like all the interesting parts were told in summary, glossing over the details so we could get back to Alma's internal narrative and the verbose, florid dialogue that was incredibly hard to actually comprehend as people talking. Overall, I never cared much for any of the characters, and couldn't quite get myself invested in their stories – I mean, 27 years are glossed over as ‘and then Alma studied moss until she became an old woman', essentially. I applaud the author for what she tried to accomplish here, but it wasn't to my taste.

Had it not been for grad school, it seems unlikely I would've ever read any work of Elizabeth Gilbert's. All I had known of her previously was that her name was attached to a certain popular book that was of little interest to me. During a lecture at my first residency, Gilbert's TED talk on “genius” was presented and my opinion shifted drastically. Gilbert was brilliant and well-spoken. (If you're a writer, or an artist of any kind, I strongly recommend watching it). The TED Talk wasn't enough to have me running to the store to pick up a copy of that one book, but was more than enough to put Gilbert on my radar.

The Signature of All Things, Gilbert's most recent, shows the author's talent—er, genius. It's luscious and well-written. Although I know almost nothing about Eat, Pray, Love, I imagine it must have been a very different book to attract the following it did. The Signature of All Things is intelligent and certainly thought-provoking, but it is far from riveting. There is a considerable amount of botany in these pages, and readers who find digressions by an author into science WILL find themselves bored repeatedly throughout this novel. Overall, the novel dragged on a bit and could've been pared down some, but it was a pleasure to live in for a time. Fans of epic, detailed historical fiction will eat this up; readers of travel memoirs—not so much.

Certainly, The Signature of All Things shows Gilbert didn't let the pressures of a follow-up to Eat, Pray, Love get to her too much. Brava, Ms. Gilbert, and olé to you.

Hummm... Not sure, some times I thought ti was beautiful and on others I was bored.

Well-written book about an unusual woman; frustrating at parts, slow in some parts, but worth the read all the same. Loved some of the insights, which correspond to some issues I've been thinking about often lately – God speaking to us through nature, a yearning inside us to be significant and a willingness and desire of God to be in relationship with us.