I am always interested in the different motivations that draw you to a book. It can be as simple as a glimpsed cover in a bookshop, or a complex web of coincidences with your own life. It was the latter for my links to this book.
Axel Linden, the author of On Sheep, was living in Stockholm and teaching literary studies at the university. He lived in a flat, commuted to work, and his contributions to the agricultural revolution were to dine at a vegan restaurant, write an article or start a Facebook group. When his father retired suddenly, he moved south into the country and took over the running of the family sheep farm.
I made my first trip to Sweden this year, where my father-in-law farms a hundred hectares from an old farm house surrounded by barns. We lived there for two weeks, between time in Stockholm and Oslo. There are no sheep; the only animals we saw were deer and moose grazing on his wheat and oats. But the old farm, with its muddle of outbuildings, was what I saw in my mind as I read this book. I have owned up to four sheep myself, although that was only because the family was tired of eating beef and forced me to keep them for a slight change in diet. I had been close to my cattle, but never saw eye to eye with the sheep. The four of them escaped and joined up with my neighbour’s flock of about a hundred. Four Black-Faced Suffolks among a hundred White-Faced. After chasing them around for an evening, I failed to shepherd them home. A day later they were all back, presumably through the same invisible hole I could never find, rejected by their neighbours. They never tried to escape again.
On Sheep takes the form of a diary, charting the interactions with the small but growing flock. Observations on life with sheep. Some are simple, like one is limping, then it’s not, then it is. Other passages are more profound, such as this:
“I’ve been thinking about the life I share with the sheep. In one sense it doesn’t amount to much. We stare at one another for a few minutes a day. But looking after living creatures is about more than relating to individuals. They are in my care, a state of affairs that is only partially apparent in the mutual staring. Most of the looking after takes place without the presence of those being looked after – the fencing, the winter fodder, the mucking out, the watering. Sheep are said to have been domesticated for 11,000 years. We look at one another, the sheep and me, and it feel like staring into a deep well of experience: problems and possibilities, sources of sorrow and happiness – life in all its dimensions and its inconceivably vast expanse across time and space.”
The flock, and the jobs around it, change with the seasons; there are lambs, some of whom survive and some do not, there are rams to be brought in, others to be killed, winters inside the barn. The book is a changing panorama, but looking onto a tiny microcosm of life, it has a rhythm like the passing of the seasons, gentle and familiar. Heart-warming.