Being an Iowan has been difficult for those of us who love our home and are horrified by its policies. Art Cullen, in his new book Dear Marty, We Crapped In Our Nest (Ice Cube Press), lays bare the complicated web of events that made it this way, pondering: how can I identify with my neighbors and shudder at my state at large?
This book is fast-paced and conversational, but full of facts and interviews gleaned from a lifetime of reporting. It opens with a discussion of Iowan farming which quickly veers into global warming before spending time with the societies and scientists who have shaped the landscape and agricultural practices of this region.
“If you cannot imagine a town of 68 people, you might not be able to appreciate how things get done around here,” Cullen says early in the book, positing what will become an anchor point for his treatise on rural American life. “Somehow there is this disconnect of people who do not share the same experiences. Reality takes on caricature.” As someone who has experienced the city and chosen to return to his rural hometown, Cullen is frustrated that the “other side” appears to be two-dimensional for so many.
His argument throughout Dear Marty is for a holistic approach to agriculture — which should be a properly nonpartisan issue — using research on agronomy, economics, horticulture and sociology to illustrate that so-called “conventional” farming is ruining soil, plant and community health. Profits motivated farmers toward monoculture, but in less than a century, the corn-and-soybean cycle has become unsustainable and unprofitable.
But more than this, Cullen argues for a divestment from the idea that these issues have party lines. Food connects all people and, in a time of massive environmental change, we are all connected. The same circumstances that removed the Ioway from their land eventually led to soil erosion, rural poverty and detention camps. “The satisfaction of self-sufficiency eroded in a flood of money,” which has led to the disenfranchisement of not just Iowa but a large swath of the planet.
As someone who dreams about a hobby farm and daydreams about getting lost in the woods with a book, I am perhaps the most sympathetic audience this book could have. I worry that the more I talk about it, the more I undersell it. What’s special about Dear Marty is that it has no political allegiances; it is unpretentious and straightforward, which makes me believe I can hand it to any of my neighbors and we can all agree that we deserve the Iowa Cullen envisions.
Cullen’s folksy narration invites us to relax into his storytelling, which toggles from history lesson to science demonstration and finally a call to action. The horror stories he presents are tinged in hope — the road that led here is not a dead end, and science has already demonstrated that the situation is salvageable. While “hope is not a strategy,” Cullen’s research insists that “we have the technology to cope and stay ahead, if we master the commitment.”
This article was originally published in Little Village’s September 2025 issue.
