Growing Herbs

Growing Herbs (1989) by Eric Groves. Published by The Herb Society. ISBN: 0906390095. Condition: Good. Sold, with entirely reasonable levels of botanical optimism, by Crappy Old Books.

There are gardening books, and then there are herb books. Gardening books are about control. Lawns. Borders. Plans. Herb books, however, are about quiet rebellion in leaf form. Growing Herbs is not merely a manual — it is a gentle manifesto for allowing small, fragrant plants to take over your life in ways that feel wholesome but may end in you explaining the difference between marjoram and oregano to an unprepared dinner guest.

Eric Groves writes with the calm authority of a man who has made peace with thyme. (All the thyme.) This is a book from 1989 — the golden era when herb-growing meant earthen pots, twine, and optimism, rather than LED grow-lights and lifestyle branding. No curated “plant parent” nonsense here. Just soil, sunlight, and the faint suggestion that parsley deserves more respect.

Inside, you will find guidance on cultivation, care, varieties, and the subtle art of not killing basil within 48 hours of purchase. There are explanations of hardy perennials, tender annuals, and the deeply humbling experience of mint, which will grow magnificently anywhere you do not want it and sulk magnificently where you do.

Herbs, as this book gently reminds us, are civilisation in miniature. Rosemary remembers. Sage offers wisdom. Lavender soothes. Chives quietly improve everything without demanding applause. And then there is coriander, whose existence appears to divide humanity into warring camps. Groves treats them all with the same measured patience, as though world peace might one day be achieved through better compost.

The charm of this book lies in its sincerity. It assumes you have a garden. Or a windowsill. Or at least a stubborn belief that you could grow something edible without consulting an app. It speaks of seasons as though they are reliable companions. It suggests drying bundles of herbs in airy kitchens. It does not anticipate supermarket plastic clamshells or hydroponic dystopia. It belongs to an era when “organic” was less a marketing label and more a default state of being.

Condition: Good — which feels appropriate for a herb book. It has likely been consulted. Possibly while flour-dusted. Perhaps while someone wondered if tarragon was worth the effort (it is). It shows the honest signs of life without descending into horticultural tragedy. No pressed sage leaves inside — we checked.

This is ideal for:

• The aspirational grower who believes in fresh flavours and mild self-sufficiency.

• The seasoned gardener who wants to revisit the gentle wisdom of a pre-digital age.

• Anyone who suspects that nurturing small aromatic plants is a surprisingly radical act.

Owning this book is a quiet declaration: that flavour matters, that patience matters, and that somewhere in the chaos of modern life, you can still grow something green that smells faintly of the Mediterranean and moral superiority.

Crappy Old Books — supplying the knowledge, the nostalgia, and just enough horticultural encouragement to make you believe this year’s basil will be different.

Keep browsing: See more Gardening books Other books by Eric Groves