What are these tiny alien beings that have invaded our gardens, our movie screens, and even our TV sets—their pointy red hats popping up in episodes of South Park and King of the Hill, and in travel and beer commercials that are endlessly watched on YouTube?
Gnomes.
Adding to this pop culture phenomenon—or, more accurately, shedding light on it—is a book due out in September: Garden Gnomes: A History.
Type “gnome” into Google’s search engine and you will get almost 27 million hits—yep, 27 million. To put that into perspective, that’s just a tad less than you get when Googling Lindsay Lohan. Who the heck is the gnomes’ PR firm, anyway?
Gnomes are usually described as small, white-bearded old men, often with a gnarled form. While today’s manufactured gnomes are usually portrayed as gardeners or woodsmen, early gnome legends describe them as miners. One theory traces gnomes to an ancient race of miners who left the island of Crete 1,500 years ago to work the mines of Europe.
Gnomes debuted as garden ornaments in England in 1849. For a long time, it was thought that the first commercially sold gnomes were manufactured in eastern Germany—where there is actually a gnome theme park today. But recent evidence points to Poland as the source of the earliest mass-produced garden gnomes.
Early garden gnomes were made out of terra cotta or wood. Ceramic gnomes were manufactured in the early 20th century, but with the onset of World War II, production trickled to a stop. It wasn't until the 1960s that mass-produced plastic and resin gnomes first appeared. Then three decades later, in the 1990s, they experienced a burst in popularity. The fascination exists to this day.
The current gnome craze has led to the introduction of funny gnomes, “naughty” gnomes—even gnomes costumed in NFL gear. The British Gnomeland website—and publisher of the book Gnomeland: An Introduction to the Little People—reports, “A range of football action gnomes was produced for the 2006 World Cup, and one of the United Kingdom’s largest supermarket chains claimed they were selling them at a rate of one every 5 seconds.”
Garden gnomes even have their own online genealogy database, the Virtual Gnome Museum. There is also a Garden Gnome Liberation Front with branches in countries including Italy and France.
Those who own garden gnomes aren’t all thrilled about this surge in popularity. For one thing, gnomes are stolen left and right. Theft-proofing has become a hot topic—suggestions include getting a watch dog, protecting the perimeter, placing gnomes in difficult-to-access locations, or simply getting a gnome that is too big and heavy to easily transport.
An article published in an Australian newspaper in the 1980s reported on the theft of a gnome. This is the story, according to Wikipedia: "A gnome-owner was distressed when she discovered her gnome had been stolen...A note was found in its place: Dear mum, couldn't stand the solitude any longer. Gone off to see the world. Don't be worried, I'll be back soon. Love Bilbo xxx."
The latest craze—“borrowing” gnomes and photographing them—has recently gone viral. It's hard to determine how long garden gnomes will remain in the spotlight. Some say the trend is already passé, but others beg to differ. Is this the end of our adventure in the land of the gnome?
Who gnows?
