As a born-again-Iowan, I delight in Iowa trivia and the relaying of impressive and surprising Iowa facts that challenge perceptions of a so-called flyover state. To me, these bits of information aren’t just trivia, but snapshots of a larger concept of Iowa, outside of whatever cornfields and caucuses that people imagine when they think of my homeland.
Dreams of Fields by Roy R. Behrens (Ice Cube Press) is a compendium of these snapshots. Narrated conversationally, like catching a favorite professor with their special interest (and Behrens was a professor and distinguished scholar at UNI), these portraits of Iowa history are easy to digest and add texture and insight to a state that is so often dismissed by outsiders. I’d recommend it consumed in small bites; this won’t ruin the collage it creates as a collection, but will allow the stories to stand apart.
This essay collection is loosely chronological and each piece follows a person who either impacted Iowa’s history or was impacted by Iowa. The essays are compact and span a wide variety of cultural or historical touchstones, such as World War II and the American Civil War, horse racing, curiosities and indigenous practices. I should add that I was unsurprised to learn that Behrens’s scholarly expertise is in design because so many of the essays in Dreams of Fields touch on the global impact that art and design have had.
All of this is encouraging, to me, because it’s a gentle reminder that none of us is an island. Behrens even says, at a few points, that we can hold onto some of these memories when we are overwhelmed by conflict and cruelty.
Another great feature of this collection is the quotes with which Behrens opens and closes each essay. For the essay on the dissolution and rehabilitation of Fort Atkinson, the epigraph from John W. Gardner reads, “History never looks like history when you are living through it. It always looks confusing and messy, and it always feels uncomfortable.” This quote resonated with me on its own, but as an introduction to an essay that explores disappearing landmarks and how value is ascribed to a structure, it sets the readers expectations. And since these essays often open with a character who will lead us to an important moment (or movement), the framing of the content helps to put the essay into the greater context of our shared cultural history.
Behrens says in his note on the book, “Wherever I have lived, I could not help but wonder whatever has taken place…in the decades and centuries prior to mine,” and this is clear from his approach to the subject. Behrens loves Iowa so deeply that he investigates an object beyond his initial interest (often art, education or entertainment) to its impact on a grander scale. His love radiates through his preoccupations and finds itself translated clearly for the reader to share in its warmth.
This article was originally published in Little Village’s February 2026 issue.
