At a 2017 gathering depicted in "Ginseng Roots," Craig Thompson’s second graphic memoir, farmer and entrepreneur Will Hsu urges his workers, "It doesn’t matter what your politics are. Now is the time to MAKE AMERICAN GINSENG GREAT AGAIN." Thompson illustrates himself nearby, raising a glass with uncertainty about the exact meaning of the toast.
Will Hsu, a first-generation American with a Harvard MBA, approaches ginseng farming with precise logistics and a focus on technology. Ginseng, traditionally used in Chinese medicine, is also cultivated in the United States. Thompson’s presence at the event serves his purpose of researching the industry, which he intimately knows from childhood. Starting at age ten, Thompson and his family worked Wisconsin ginseng fields to supplement his father’s modest jobs. The children earned one dollar per hour for tasks like weeding and stone picking, money Thompson fondly recalls spending on comic books.
For the Hsu family, ginseng farming is a legacy rooted in immigration. Will’s father, Paul, emigrated from Taiwan in 1969, embracing American opportunities much like his son. Their farm exports ginseng worldwide and markets it to Chinese-American communities, relying on a diverse workforce of white Americans, immigrants, and guest laborers, including many Hmong and Mexican workers.
By the memoir’s conclusion in 2021, the Hsu family’s fortunes have declined amid the Covid-19 pandemic and rising anti-Chinese sentiment in the United States. Will Hsu expresses a somber reflection: "We failed."
The 2017 toast represented an optimistic belief in the Hsu family’s American roots, yet Thompson’s memoir reveals the complexities and challenges beneath that hope. Among several figures in the story, Hsu’s journey stands out for its poignant and tragic resonance.
"Ginseng Roots" unfolds as an intimate, sometimes raw chronicle that blends personal memoir with investigative journalism. It serves as a follow-up to Thompson’s 2003 memoir "Blankets," which explored his troubled childhood and departure from fundamentalism, and echoes the travelogue style of his 2004 "Carnet de Voyage." Most compellingly, it delves into the unique and culturally diverse world of American ginseng farming, capturing the intersection of immigrant and native communities. Thompson interviews family members, former employers, and workers from his youth, offering an unexpectedly engaging portrait of an unfamiliar industry.
Thompson excels at portraying working-class American life with nuance, highlighting the tensions, loyalties, and hardships involved. For instance, a white veteran who hires Hmong families only after recognizing their alliance during the Vietnam War illustrates complex social dynamics. The memoir also exposes a casual acceptance of child labor and pesticide exposure among farming families. Returning as an adult, Thompson hears farmers lament that only immigrant laborers will work as diligently as he did as a child.
"Ginseng Roots" is arguably Thompson’s most visually striking work to date. Utilizing a limited color palette, each page experiments with layouts, brush strokes, maps, mythical imagery, and evocative illustrations of tigers and flames. The art remains purposeful and uncluttered, with panels that flow seamlessly or stand powerfully on their own.
The memoir’s characters are richly drawn with subtle contradictions—such as an elderly couple who are kindly yet harbor casual racism, a strict Hmong farmer who once fought as a child soldier against the Viet Cong, and Thompson’s own father, who has softened from a harsh past to a grateful presence. However, Thompson’s attempts to draw broader conclusions—like the explanation of traditional Chinese medicine by a white acupuncturist—sometimes feel less compelling.
As a memoir, "Ginseng Roots" also serves as a meditation on identity and belonging. Thompson contrasts the traditional Chinese method of carefully digging ginseng to preserve its delicate roots with the American approach of mechanized harvesting that disrupts the underground network. This metaphor raises questions about cultural preservation and assimilation, both for Thompson and the diverse figures in his story.
Though the metaphor may seem neat, the memoir acknowledges that cultural connections are neither perfectly maintained nor entirely severed. Ultimately, Thompson offers a rich tapestry of memories that reveal the complexities of heritage, community, and personal history.
