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A review by jonscott9
Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder
5.0
You may know the book's title from a Haitian saying made famous in a way by the band Arcade Fire, whose co-founder Régine Chassagne is of Haitian heritage. Goes the proverb, "Beyond mountains there are mountains," which basically amounts to "As you solve one problem, another shows itself."
So it goes for Dr. Paul Farmer, who in 1987 cofounded the global health organization Partners in Health. The subtitle of this book is hardly a hyperbole. Thankfully, for the people of Haiti and others around the world, he has this perspective: "If you say that seven hours is too long to walk for two families of patients, you're saying that their lives matter less than some others. And the idea that some lives matter less is the root of all that's wrong with the world."
Pulitzer winner Tracy Kidder entrenched himself in Farmer's world. That's in such a gripping way that he has no choice but to entrench himself specifically in the world of the poor, namely in Haiti's rural community of people stricken by poverty and disease (tuberculosis, HIV/AIDS and more).
I read this tome after meeting Farmer at a global health event at my former employer's headquarters. Further, someone I served on a board with was a classmate of his from Duke, and we shared that strange, small-world camaraderie. He signed (and dated) my copy of the book, with a two-sentence note made out to me personally after a longer-than-expected chat with a line of people behind me. That's Paul Farmer: He plainly, earnestly wants (read: implores) people to care about others, about the world outside of themselves.
Farmer is a complicated, difficult and wonderful person. He practically has to be, as the situations he's in to help people are likewise difficult. They're incredible hard. "In his mind, he was fighting all poverty all the time, an endeavor full of difficulties and inevitable failures."
As Kidder notes, "A doctor who knew nothing about local beliefs might end up at war with Voodoo priests, but a doctor-anthropologist who understood those beliefs could find ways to make Voodoo houngans his allies." So it went for Farmer. The Haitian saying had it that the country was "90% Catholic and 100% Voodoo." Even the devoutly Christian in the country believed in voodoo; they simply believed it was wrong.
Kidder's account is remarkably compelling, well written in the manner of narrative journalism and (in the notes after its epilogue) meticulously sourced. I read it all quite slowly, over the better part of two years—though it's not too long a book—and I hoped to absorb it, to retain its substantive information.
In that I've been marginally successful. But I didn't want to forget what people have suffered under the dictatorship of Jean-Claude Duvalier. At the same time, we need to remember, and act in light of, how they suffer still. As Farmer had it, "The only time that I hear talk of shrinking resources among people like us, among academics, is when we talk about things that have to do with poor people."
We still see the headlines about Haiti. What will we do about it, about others who need help even closer to home? Dr. Paul Farmer would like to know.
So it goes for Dr. Paul Farmer, who in 1987 cofounded the global health organization Partners in Health. The subtitle of this book is hardly a hyperbole. Thankfully, for the people of Haiti and others around the world, he has this perspective: "If you say that seven hours is too long to walk for two families of patients, you're saying that their lives matter less than some others. And the idea that some lives matter less is the root of all that's wrong with the world."
Pulitzer winner Tracy Kidder entrenched himself in Farmer's world. That's in such a gripping way that he has no choice but to entrench himself specifically in the world of the poor, namely in Haiti's rural community of people stricken by poverty and disease (tuberculosis, HIV/AIDS and more).
I read this tome after meeting Farmer at a global health event at my former employer's headquarters. Further, someone I served on a board with was a classmate of his from Duke, and we shared that strange, small-world camaraderie. He signed (and dated) my copy of the book, with a two-sentence note made out to me personally after a longer-than-expected chat with a line of people behind me. That's Paul Farmer: He plainly, earnestly wants (read: implores) people to care about others, about the world outside of themselves.
Farmer is a complicated, difficult and wonderful person. He practically has to be, as the situations he's in to help people are likewise difficult. They're incredible hard. "In his mind, he was fighting all poverty all the time, an endeavor full of difficulties and inevitable failures."
As Kidder notes, "A doctor who knew nothing about local beliefs might end up at war with Voodoo priests, but a doctor-anthropologist who understood those beliefs could find ways to make Voodoo houngans his allies." So it went for Farmer. The Haitian saying had it that the country was "90% Catholic and 100% Voodoo." Even the devoutly Christian in the country believed in voodoo; they simply believed it was wrong.
Kidder's account is remarkably compelling, well written in the manner of narrative journalism and (in the notes after its epilogue) meticulously sourced. I read it all quite slowly, over the better part of two years—though it's not too long a book—and I hoped to absorb it, to retain its substantive information.
In that I've been marginally successful. But I didn't want to forget what people have suffered under the dictatorship of Jean-Claude Duvalier. At the same time, we need to remember, and act in light of, how they suffer still. As Farmer had it, "The only time that I hear talk of shrinking resources among people like us, among academics, is when we talk about things that have to do with poor people."
We still see the headlines about Haiti. What will we do about it, about others who need help even closer to home? Dr. Paul Farmer would like to know.