It was equally dismissive of convection and seafloor spreading. And in Basin and Range, published in 1980, John McPhee noted that even then one American geologist in eight still didn't believe in plate tectonics.
Today we know that Earth's surface is made up of eight to twelve big plates (depending on how you define big) and twenty or so smaller ones, and they all move in different directions and at different speeds. Some plates are large and comparatively inactive, others small but energetic. They bear only an incidental relationship to the landmasses that sit upon them.
The North American plate, for instance, is much larger than the continent with which it is associated. It roughly traces the outline of the continent's western coast (which is why that area is so seismically active, because of the bump and crush of the plate boundary), but ignores the eastern seaboard altogether and instead extends halfway across the Atlantic to the mid-ocean ridge. Iceland is split down the middle, which makes it tectonically half American and half European. New Zealand, meanwhile, is part of the immense Indian Ocean plate even though it is nowhere near the Indian Ocean. And so it goes for most plates.
The connections between modern landmasses and those of the past were found to be infinitely more complex than anyone had imagined. Kazakhstan, it turns out, was once attached to Norway and New England. One corner of Staten Island, but only a corner, is European. So is part of Newfoundland.