"A flaky story, but what the hake !"

I was floundering around, trying to decide what to read next. I spotted Mark Kurlansky's book on my shelf and realized it had been sitting there since 1997. "Holy mackerel", I thought, "I should have read that before now." I took it down, perched on my favorite char, and shad all my inhibitions about reading books on fish. After a few pages, I was hooked. I can report that it's a most interesting book that traces cod's part in Western history from early times. When the Italian John Cabot `discovered' Newfoundland, he found a thousand Basque fishing vessels already there. When did they start coming ? Nobody knows, but for those partisans of Chris Columbus, this will be a most sharking piece of information. Kurlansky exsalmons many aspects of the cod fisheries in the North Sea, off Iceland, and on the Grand Banks of North America, shedding a ray of light on why overfishing has put most fishermen out of business. We can say that short sighted policies have scrod them. There is no use carping about this, we've wantonly wasted this once-inexhaustible resource, thinking that such dace would never come. The scale of the population crash is greater than I thought and cod may very well go the way of the dodo. I was also glad to see that my hometown, Marblehead, Mass., once a major fishing port, rated a few mentions. It once smelt of drying cod, but the dangerous life on the Grand Banks, as described in the book, came to an end after a terrible storm in 1846. Nearby Gloucester has carried on to the bitter end. The sections on the nexus of cod, molasses and slavery impressed me, and the reason why stockfish/salt cod is still a part of Caribbean and West African life becomes clear. I enjoyed reading the big grouper of recipes provided in between chapters and at the end, with very interesting information to go along with them, but can only conclude that if you try certain ones, you will wind up quite eel.
COD is a very enjoyable book, with a lot of well-researched chapters which are well-written up. If you are keen to know about a single species of fish in history, you could read this book, or you could read it just for the halibut. There are already over a thousand reviews here, so if you've been reading them, by now you've probably haddock and have tunaed out. But I've been herring a good time (both reading and whiting) and heartily recommend COD to you.

It's about cod. If you'd like to know the history of cod, read this book. If you've wondered about the impact of cod on human history, read this book. If you want to cook cod using recipes from long ago to recent times, read this book. If you interested in learning about the current status of cod stock around the world, read this book. Hey, I thought it was interesting :)

About as interesting as a book about cod can be, I suppose. I have a couple qualms with it though. Mostly with some of the editing choices (or lack thereof).

1. why all the useless, inane quotes and tidbits strewn throughout the book? One good powerful quote about cod to open the book would have been fine, but to start every chapter with like three passages each more vaguely related to cod fishing than the last seems a little excessive. And the the recipes. Each chapter has a recipe for cod (Turns out you are pretty much limited to putting some butter and lemon on cod and calling it a day.) It just seemed strange to hear so much about overfishing juxtaposed with ways to eat said fish.
2. Lots of historical preamble for the punchline that cod have been wildly overfished and are now pretty much extinct (spoiler alert?). The history is interesting, but it's presented in a way that assumes the reader not only is knows the historical context of 1500s fishing and politics, but knows it like the back of their hand.
3. It's a little misleading. Maybe that's my fault for having certain expectations. I read the whole book being under the impression that the message behind the story of Cod's decline is that (over)fishing is not sustainable and we need to find solutions to conserve and take care of our oceans. That's at least where I thought the book was headed until (literally) the last page, when the author seems to take a an abrupt turn to end the book by suggesting Man's role in nature is not, in fact, in conserving and protecting it, but finding new and better ways to exploit it for its resources. At least now all the recipes make a lot more sense.

For anyone who has been to the Massachusetts Statehouse, this book clearly explains why a carved codfish is the most prominent object in the legislative chamber. The availability of abundant cod in New England was perhaps the single most important factor in making the American colonies such a valuable piece of real estate. Even today, Canadian and American coast guard cutters have to deal with foreign fishing fleets that attempt to fish on the Georges and Grand Banks of the North Atlantic.

While I have read many times about the famous "Triangle Trade", cod also had an important role by providing cheap and portable protein for slaves working the sugar plantations in the West Indies. Kurlansky provides extensive examples of recipes and prose dedicated to those who enjoyed eating cod.

I wish that the author could have done more writing on the current research and prognosis for a recovery of the cod. In addition, the work would have benefited from illustrations that explained the differing fishing techniques and vessels that he describes in the book. Maps also would have been helpful to show exactly which areas of the Atlantic are used for cod fishing and how they have shifted over time.

Being Norwegian on both sides since at least the Napoleonic wars, I have a relationship with fish, especially cod. While cod roe is a favorite, lutefisk is something I've only tried once and don't plan on trying again--it was like fishy jello. Yuck! Regular cod, served with potato, was something served at the Norwegian Club, back when there was such a thing, that Dad would occasionally attend. There, however, he would order the meatballs, fish being associated in his mind and in mother's with the depression and the war--something you ate because you couldn't obtain or afford red meat.

This book is primarily a history of the cod fisheries of the North Atlantic, beginning in the middle ages and continuing into present. As such, it's also a survey of fisheries worldwide and of their impoverishment, if not extinction, owing to overuse and environmental degradation. Secondarily, it's a celebration of a disappearing lifestyle and cuisine.

Well written, cautionary, this is a commendable book.

Continuing on my histories of odd things (and non-fiction binge), I returned to another Mark Kurlansky piece that may leave some readers swimming in the other direction. Kurlansky presents the cod and its importance in world history, which was surely as entertaining and educational as it was unique. Many may think cod as nothing more than a fish that finds its way onto the plate, best served with potatoes and green peas (or whatever vegetable one has on hand), but there is a great deal more to this creature of the water. Politics and industry play such key (and intertwined) roles in its discovery and ongoing exploration (exploitation?) that the reader will surely come away with a more thorough understanding of the complexity of the fish. Kurlansky offers up a few interesting insights to pique the reader’s interest, if nothing more. Rest assured, a non-fish eater though I am, I was astounded with all that came from this piece, and the impact cod has had on the world for over two thousand years.

Cod have not only been fished extensively (and exclusively) for thousands of years, but they are some of the most sought after fish for their versatile nature. Well before refrigeration became an option, fishermen discovered the ability to salt them, which not only added a flavour, but also a distinct ruggedness. Allowing the fish to last that much longer, it could be transported, sold, and stored for longer periods, thereby making it highly profitable on the world market. Throughout his piece, Kurlansky shows just how desired salted cod became, in all corners of the world. But it is not only the salted fillets that prove to be a delicious treat, but most every part of the fish. From their livers (tasting and whose oil is highly medicinal) to their heads (a delicious chowder, without eyes) and even their skin (perfect for making bags and satchels), cod is one of the most versatile fish on the market. Kurlansky discusses at one point that there is even a use for the bones, particularly amongst the ever-thinking Icelandic population. Cod as food is likely the easiest way the reader will consider this fish, but there is so much more to the discussion.

Cod was not only a form of food on which to sup, for some it was a way of life. Kurlansky explores the life of a fisherman and how entire communities would rely on the bountiful cod catches that came from off the coast. Kurlansky returns throughout the piece to discuss the importance of cod fishing to Newfoundland (Canada), New England (America), and much of the country of Iceland. Entire livelihoods were based on enough cod coming off the boats to be sold on the open market. There are many parts of the world where cod is not plentiful, but it is sought after as a staple in the diet. Kurlansky explores how overfishing by other countries has helped to deplete the stock of cod, thereby adversely affecting the lives of huge portions of the populace. This has, at least in the Canadian example, forced multi-generational fishing families to turn to financial assistance for subsistence, their pride decimated. Politics abound when it comes to fishing and those who pull cod from the water are affected like no other. Kurlansky does provide a captivating and chilling narrative about the politics of cod fishing.

One would be remiss to simply accept that cod are a food, for anything that can be sold will surely have a price tag and a profit. Kurlansky explores how centuries ago, explorers would find their way in the open waters to take advantage of this new discovery, hoping to sell it and provide a large profit margin. The Basques were able to capitalise on this for centuries, particularly because the were situated in a plentiful area. The British Commonwealth ran likely a well-oiled machine, forcing colonial fishermen to send back their catches to be sold to others, without the full profits making back to the original source. In time, other countries were able to build large boats to join the ‘game’, entering the fray and taking what they could handle. However, cod are not as fertile as one might think, nor able to replenish as quickly as they are captured. This led to a shortage of fish and a moratorium on fishing. An international agreement to extend sovereign waters led to many a clash between countries, only added proverbial blood to the water and turned ugly when the cod population shrunk. Countries went to (fish) war over cod and sanctions ensued, particularly a battle between Iceland and the UK in the 1970s. No one was safe and entire communities, as discussed above, suffered the most. This is likely some of the most disturbing parts of the narrative, as it pulls in the seal hunt and the economic livelihood of thousands of families and is only another example of how large corporations destroyed the little man for their own greed.

I am the first to admit that I do not like fish, though I was drawn to this piece and could not find a way to step back. Kurlansky has such a way with his storytelling that the reader finds themselves in the middle of the story before realising how much time has passed. Full of anecdotes and personal asides, Kurlansky personalises the topic more than many historians can do for actual human subjects. Who would have thought that cod could be such a complex food, while also being such a binding agent for small communities? Kurlansky does offer a great deal of information that the reader must digest, but it is all poignant and ties together throughout the narrative. I found myself relating events in early chapters on cod fishing to later discussions of wars between the governments of the UK and Iceland, fitting the two topics together seamlessly. With the added bonus of numerous recipes pulled from over many centuries, Kurlansky ties the discussion together and permits the reader to explore the culinary side of the topic, a less confrontational aspect of cod fishing. While there is no doubt that cod will long be a divisive topic when it comes to mass fishing quotas between countries, it is also the lifeblood for many people, which is easily forgotten, especially by a man on the landlocked Canadian Prairies. Kurlansky breathes life into the discussion and keeps the reader thinking, which can lead to talking and eventually acting on what they have come to learn.

Kudos, Mr. Kurlansky, for another stunning food-related biography. I am completely hooked and have a few more of your books to explore in the not too distant future. While I may not be rushing out to have cod-head chowder, you did get me thinking about an industry about which I know so little.

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The last hour or so is just random cod-related "content," filler to meet the publisher's page requirement, and has no impact on learning the history of cod. Overall, a decent history. I liked all the old cod recipes at the end of each chapter.

Fascinating book on the history of cod, and especially about the fishing of cod. The book has some personal stories as well from fishermen, people who were forced out of fishery due to low profits and low stock, and more. The recipes in between the chapters are funny (though I won't try them). There are some charming old photos also. I wish there was a little focus on cod ecology and biology, it sometimes touches upon this, but one chapter of explanation would help the reader understand about why stock declined the way it did. Overall, enjoyable read!

everyone made fun of me but it was really interesting. cape cod souvenir success

Очень нравится оформление: открывают каждую главу тресковые цитаты из книг или речей, а завершают рецепты. Нравится и содержание, но меньше: слишком уж поверхностное даже для незнакомой с темой меня, беглый обзор, а не детальное исследование. Всё ещё любопытное, пусть и временами скучноватое, но я ждала большей глубины.

A somewhat decent microhistory of cod with one major flaw: not all of his claims are backed up with enough evidence, and some are just downright wrong.

For example:

--Basques were fishing and living in North America in 1000 A.D.? I need citations.

--“[Unlike in France], the French language has barely changed in Quebec since the eighteenth century.” I lived in Quebec. This doesn’t seem accurate. In fact, I think Quebec French has evolved faster than France French.

—“A shark is not a fish.” A shark is most definitely a fish.

*****

On the other hand, I did learn some interesting things (that appear to check out):

--I'd never heard about the islands of Saint Pierre and Miquelon, the only remaining part of New France (they are French territory islands off the coast of Canada; the inhabitants are French citizens and they speak French that’s closer to France French than to Quebec French).

--The Birds Eye frozen vegetable brand isn’t just a cute nature-y name. It’s a surname! Clarence Birdseye, originally of New Jersey, moved to Newfoundland to become a fur trapper. While there, he figured out you could freeze vegetables and they’d stay fresh all winter. Then he started freezing the cod that was so plentiful back then, and from there he started a company. That company, originally called Birdseye Seafood Inc., was sold and eventually morphed into the familiar logo we see on frozen peas today.

--Gorton’s, the famous brand of frozen fish sticks, which is based in the fishing town of Gloucester, Massachusetts . . . hasn’t bought a single fish from a Gloucester fisherman in decades.

*****

One more thing. For the most part, this is a fairly dispassionate journalistic account of cod’s history. That’s a good thing in this context. But then, in the last paragraph of the book, there’s this odd passage:

“There is a big difference between living in a society that hunts whales and living in one that views them. Nature is being reduced to precioius demonstrations for entertainment and education, something far less natural than hunting. Are we headed for a world where nothing is left of nature but parks?”

What a curious thing to say.

First of all, there’s no objective measure of what’s “natural” and what’s not. It’s all relative. It would be quite unnatural indeed to find a cow hunting whales, for instance.

Seeing as humans are omnivores and can survive quite happily and healthily as herbivores, I don’t think it’s necessarily “unnatural” to not hunt.

Nor is it “unnatural” to watch whales. Humans have been instilled with a sense of awe and natural wonder—being in the presence of nature has been shown by plenty of studies to lower stress and improve health. How, then, is peacefully watching fellow creatures live their lives “unnatural,” but gutting a fellow intelligent being from blowhole to fin would be a “natural” thing to do?

This is just such unnecessary black-and-white thinking, and it didn’t contribute to the book at all. Such a sour note to end on.

More like a 4.5 but I’m in a rounding up mood. Really fascinating read!