My recent post on linguistic origins (and the cool comments that followed) brought to mind a really interesting book I read some 20 years ago: The nine nations of North America.
I think I got this as a gift from Bud, and while it’s been decades since I read it, the basic ideas still stick quite clearly, which is saying something given my sift of a brain. Quite happily the entire(?) book is available on-line. To quote the opening chapter:
Forget about the borders dividing the United States, Canada, and Mexico, those pale barriers so thoroughly porous to money, immigrants, and ideas.
…
Forget the maze of state and provincial boundaries, those historical accidents and surveyors’ mistakes. The reason no one except the trivia expert can name all fifty of the United States is that they hardly matter.
…
Consider, instead, the way North America really works. It is Nine Nations. Each has its capital and its distinctive web of power and influence. A few are allies, but many are adversaries. Several have readily acknowledged national poets, and many have characteristic dialects and mannerisms. Some are close to being raw frontiers; others have four centuries of history. Each has a peculiar economy; each commands a certain emotional allegiance from its citizens. These nations look different, feel different, and sound different from each other, and few of their boundaries match the political lines drawn on current maps. Some are It’s valuable to recognize these divergent realities. The layers of unifying flavor and substances that define these nations help explain the major storms and excursions through which our public affairs pass.
While one may disagree with his details, the idea is really interesting and carries much truth. My experience in Oregon, for example, was that there was a very substantial split on many levels between the thin green strip along the Pacific and the great dry region farther inland.
One of the most useful concepts I got from the book was the importance of boundaries between regions as places where ideas collide and commingle. In other words, that’s where the action tends to be. Living in Austin, TX, was an interesting example. There we had the Bread Basket (mid-west) of my youth in North Texas merging with MexAmerica (even more evident in San Antonio), all within spitting distance of East Texas and the beginning of Dixie. This position led to a wonderfully fluid mixing of cultures that was readily evident in things like music and food and was an important part of why it was such fun to live there.
Wikipedia has a short, but helpful, page on the concept. The book is apparently out of print, but appears to be widely available in used form, and the book web site suggests that it may be reprinted soon.
