It's hard to live in Harvard and not be endlessly fascinated by the experiment in living out the ideals of Transcendentalism that went on 167 years ago in the red farmhouse at what is now Fruitlands Museum. The group who came here believed there is an underlying structure to the world that unites all phenomena, and that if one lived one's life in accordance with certain principles, one could become "one" with that universal harmony. In his new book, Fruitlands: The Alcott Family and their Search for Utopia, Richard Francis feeds that fascination, providing a wealth of primary source information and giving the Alcott venture its broadest possible context. The book is an astounding feat of scholarship. Francis will be at Fruitlands Museum Saturday, Nov. 13, at 7:30 p.m. to talk about his book and sign copies.

In his introduction to the book Francis refers to his earlier work (1997) on the same subject, 80 or so pages in a volume called Transcendental Utopias. He calls his earlier account "fundamentally analytical and abstract" and says that he put himself too much into the interpretation. In this latest book, he wanted to write more of a narrative, to let the historical figures speak for themselves. His intention was "to show how Fruitlands was essentially a drama in which a particular group of people interacted with each other, intellectually and emotionally: it is that interaction which gives the experiment its fullest significance." Like any good educator, Francis wants to "show," not "tell," to present events as the participants actually discussed and wrote about them. This approach asks us to be active readers, to witness and respond to the events, without much help in interpretation from the author.

The first third of the book, called "The Seed," tells the story of Bronson Alcott, the schoolteacher and Transcendentalist. When his school in Boston comes under attack for its unorthodox teachings, the Alcotts move to Concord, and Bronson is somewhat at sea. The narrative shifts to England and we meet James Greaves, an English Transcendentalist who seeks a return to the Garden of Eden before the Fall through a vegan diet and sexual restrictions. Word of Alcott reaches Greaves and his fellow intellectuals, and Bronson crosses the Atlantic. He convinces the group that a new Eden can best be found in New England. Francis introduces a large cast of characters and at times I found it hard to keep Bronson in focus as he interacts with these philosophers at home and abroad. On the other hand, my sense of being overwhelmed by intellectual stimulation helped me to imagine what Alcott must have been feeling as he sorted his way through these complicated and often conflicting ideas.

The first few chapters of the second part of the book—"The Fruit"—describe various figures in Concord who became involved with the Alcotts and the two Englishmen, Lane and Wright, who had come over to participate in the experiment. We hear about articles in the Dial, Emerson's beliefs on various subjects, the conflicts within the group and between them and reformers back in England. While this was enlightening and I understood it was all important background to the launching of the experiment, I was anxious for the group to just get going. And finally they do, arriving at the farmhouse on Prospect Hill at the beginning of June, 1843. We see the daily life of the Alcotts, Charles Lane and his son, and the handful of followers that spent brief periods of time at Fruitlands as they struggle to exist on the land. Running concurrent with the descriptions of the practical concerns of daily living are the details of philosophical debates, the letters, and visits that Lane and Alcott make as they try to spread the word of their reforms. One sees the tensions begin to build.

In this complex world of people and ideas which the author so richly unfolds, I found myself hanging on to two pairs of images that run through the book and which Francis seems to suggest were at the core of the conflicts. One is the image of a recurring semicircle that moves ever outward. This is a metaphor for the ideas of the reformers, moving beyond themselves into an ever-increasing sphere of like minds and ultimately joining the One. Even Abigail envisions what she calls a "diffusive illimitable benevolence." The effectiveness of the image is that it comes into sharp contrast with the idea of the finite, domestic family. Francis shows Bronson and Abigail torn between a desire to transcend the literal family to join with a larger "family" of like minds in an attempt to understand the nature of things and a commitment to the literal family, with its very real pulls of passions.

Another recurring metaphor is the "Fruitlands that never was," a solid house on a small tract of land with fruit trees and berry bushes. On such a site Bronson might have succeeded in the vegan, self-sustaining livelihood on which he saw spiritual life based. Instead is the real site—the large house in poor repair, the acres of farmland, and the dearth of fruit trees. The disparity between what he should have chosen and what he actually did choose runs through the book as a signal of doom.

Part of the fascination with Fruitlands is the relevancy of some of its ideas. Francis points out the environmental concerns, the belief in the interconnectedness of all things, and the commitment to women's rights as ideas that have continued to be part of our thinking. And perhaps most relevant of all is the reminder of a philosophy we often find difficult to attend to in our busy worlds. "For the Fruitlanders, nothing could be taken for granted. Perhaps this above all gives them their fascination to this day: they insisted on looking at the world with fresh eyes."