Home Ground, for me, is a book that explores the very essence of what gardening in the city is about. I empathised entirely with Pearson's project to create an urban oasis as an "antidote to the hustle and bustle, to the hard edges" of the city - and to get the most out of this book, you'll have to do the same. Pearson's is a very personal meditation on the abstract pleasures of gardening; a mixture of design, philosophy, mood, and aesthetics.
The sheer hard graft of gardening is largely glossed over in the introduction: the site clearance, the waiting, the hard-landscaping. They form the backbone of the garden of course, but this is primarily a book about plants, and the true plant-lover will thus be enthralled. Every gardener, even if they don't agree with some of Pearson's thinking, will recognise a kindred-spirit in his continual trials and errors, in his delight in nature's serendipitous plant combinations, and in his palpable moments of melancholy over beloved plants come and gone.
The scent of Daphne "Jacqueline Postill" is "as sweet and talcy as your grandmother's dressing-room"; the Epimediums' "new foliage inflates like a dragonfly expanding after emerging from the chrysalis". Pearson's similes are abundant and evidence a deep connection with his plants, each one brings something unique to the whole, and though we never see the whole, we can feel it through the narrative's colours, scents, sounds, tastes, and textures. Howard Sooley's sumptuous photographs accompany the text in glossy full-page pauses that offer tantalising visual impressions; they balance the text perfectly.
Home Ground presupposes the reader's familiarity with botanical names; if you don't know your Cercis from your Cytisus, then this will cause problems. The nature of the subject matter, a garden's creation over a decade or more, means that sometimes the text appears a little disjointed ... this is minimised somewhat by the creation of sections within the four-season framework. There are smaller photographs of some of the more unusual plant species running through the text, which is a nice touch. And there are titbits of information too ... pruning the lower leaves from the black bamboo in order to expose its stems, for instance. And, there are even moments of humour - who can suppress a smile at Pearson's "corner of shame" - doesn't every gardener have one?
This book is big and beautifully presented; difficult, though not impossible to read in bed, and too wordy for a coffee-table. It will reward multiple readings, inasmuch as Pearson offers us his thought-processes rather than technique. There are plenty of plants here to (re)discover too, even, I venture, for those in the trade. Ultimately though, it's a book for romantics, for those who believe that there's poetry and soul in every garden.