The recent passing of Wendell Berry, a prolific Kentucky writer, reminded me of the serendipitous moment when I first discovered his work. In the late 1980s, I was a guest lecturer at LSU and stumbled upon his “Recollected Essays” at the university bookstore. This led me to explore not just his essays, but also his fiction and poetry.
Berry’s remarkable ability to resist being categorized ideologically contributed to his lack of mainstream celebrity, even as it enriched his writing. He chose to leave the literary hustle of New York to return to his roots in Port Royal, Kentucky, reminiscent of fellow writer Ernest Gaines returning to Louisiana. Berry dedicated himself to both farming and writing, with an enduring focus on local agriculture and its struggles against broader national policies.
Skeptical of concentrated power, whether corporate or governmental, Berry’s complexity, akin to George Orwell’s critiques of both left and right, defied easy labeling. His writing was characterized by beautiful sentences, particularly in “The Long-Legged House,” where he described his homecoming. He approached writing with the same care as farming—both meant to produce sustenance and beauty.
Berry’s concerns about technology echoed in his poem “The Vacation,” where a man is so distracted by capturing moments that he forgets to live them. During an interview in 1993, he expressed that the thoughts of late writer Edward Abbey still resonate in his work, a sentiment that rings true for Berry himself. Though he has passed, his literary legacy remains vibrant, especially in collections like “What I Stand On,” where his voice continues to resonate.
