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Goat Song: A Seasonal Life, A Short History of Herding, and the Art of Making Cheese
A gorgeously observed chronicle about getting out of the city and living life on the land, in the tradition of Anne Dillard’s Pilgrim at Tinker Creek . When acclaimed novelist Brad Kessler started to feel unsatisfied by his Manhattan lifestyle, he opted to tackle his issues of over-consumption and live a more eco-friendly life. He and his wife moved to a seventy-five acre goat farm in a small southern Vermont town, where they planned to make a living raising goats and making cheese. They never looked back. Now Kessler adds to his numerous accomplishments (winner of the 2007 Dayton Literary Peace Prize, 2007 Whiting Award for Writers of Exceptional Promise, and a 2008 Rome Prize) an array of cheeses that have already been highly praised by Artisanal, the renowned cheese restaurant in New York City. In his transformation from staunch urbanite to countrified goat farmer, Kessler explores the rustic roots of so many aspects of Western culture, and how our diet, alphabet, reli- gions, poetry, and economy all grew out of a pastoral setting. With Goat Song , he demonstrates yet another dimension to his writing talent, showcasing his expertise as food writer, in a compelling, beautifully written account of living by nature’s rules.
256 pages, Hardcover
First published June 23, 2009
78 people are currently reading
2640 people want to read
About the author
Brad Kessler
19 books75 followersBrad Kessler’s novel Birds in Fall won the Dayton Literary Peace Prize. His other books include Goat Song, Lick Creek, and The Woodcutter’s Christmas. His work has appeared in The New Yorker, The Nation, The Kenyon Review, and BOMB, as well as other publications. He is the recipient of a Whiting Writers’ Award, a National Endowment for the Arts fellowship, and the Rome Prize from the American Academy of Arts and Letters.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 335 reviews
July 1, 2012
This book came into my life in an unusual way.
I recently finished a series of three IRS exams to become an Enrolled Agent. For the final one, I found a colleague who was also studying for the same test, and we became study partners. Two times a week, for 10 weeks, we met at a Panera in between our two homes and shlogged through the very difficult and boring material.
One of the topics was Farm Taxation. Now, there are no farms to speak of in metro Boston, and the odds of either of us EVER doing a farm return are slim to none. But nonetheless we were tested on the arcane rules of farm taxation.
Did you know that the profit on a dairy cow is taxed differently than the profit on a cow for slaughter? Did you know that farmers have an entirely different set of rules for estimated tax payments, if they meet the definition of "qualified farmer"? Right, I didn't either.
One day, during the farm chapter, my study partner told me he had read this amazing book about a guy who moves to Vermont to raise goats and make cheese. "That sounds interesting", I said (meaning, interesting that YOU read it, but I don't think I would care for it). The next session, he brought me the book.
So I felt obligated to at least start it. And guess what? I liked it a lot. I thought the story would be along the lines of "yuppy spoiled Manhattanite moves to Vermont; is a farmer wanna-be and becomes a joke amongst the real Vermonters".
But I was pleasantly surprised. The author and his wife go into this project with open eyes and clear heads. They work hard and do not romanticize the really difficult parts of raising animals. They pitch in and help their neighbors and don't take shortcuts.
Besides the goats, the author weaves in fascinating stuff about religion, word origins, history, cheese, and poetry. He does a great job of describing the individual personalities of each of his goats, and I mourned with him when one of his best goats became seriously ill.
All in all, a darn good book. I'm going to return my friend's copy, but buy another one to pass on to others. And I might even market my tax skills to goat farmers. NOT!
I recently finished a series of three IRS exams to become an Enrolled Agent. For the final one, I found a colleague who was also studying for the same test, and we became study partners. Two times a week, for 10 weeks, we met at a Panera in between our two homes and shlogged through the very difficult and boring material.
One of the topics was Farm Taxation. Now, there are no farms to speak of in metro Boston, and the odds of either of us EVER doing a farm return are slim to none. But nonetheless we were tested on the arcane rules of farm taxation.
Did you know that the profit on a dairy cow is taxed differently than the profit on a cow for slaughter? Did you know that farmers have an entirely different set of rules for estimated tax payments, if they meet the definition of "qualified farmer"? Right, I didn't either.
One day, during the farm chapter, my study partner told me he had read this amazing book about a guy who moves to Vermont to raise goats and make cheese. "That sounds interesting", I said (meaning, interesting that YOU read it, but I don't think I would care for it). The next session, he brought me the book.
So I felt obligated to at least start it. And guess what? I liked it a lot. I thought the story would be along the lines of "yuppy spoiled Manhattanite moves to Vermont; is a farmer wanna-be and becomes a joke amongst the real Vermonters".
But I was pleasantly surprised. The author and his wife go into this project with open eyes and clear heads. They work hard and do not romanticize the really difficult parts of raising animals. They pitch in and help their neighbors and don't take shortcuts.
Besides the goats, the author weaves in fascinating stuff about religion, word origins, history, cheese, and poetry. He does a great job of describing the individual personalities of each of his goats, and I mourned with him when one of his best goats became seriously ill.
All in all, a darn good book. I'm going to return my friend's copy, but buy another one to pass on to others. And I might even market my tax skills to goat farmers. NOT!
August 19, 2009
I know when I really love a book, I tell everyone that they need to read it. I also know that it rarely happens, and that it's even less likely to happen when the book in question is on goat farming. But Goat Song is about so much more than just goat farming. Sure, Kessler walks you through his process of buying, raising and milking goats, but don't expect this to be some utopian 'back to our roots' foodie lit. This is the real deal, right from the goat vulva to the spinal parasites that threaten one goat's life. This is a book that's graphic in it's description of goat raising; idealists beware. That's not to say there isn't beauty here. It's exactly where you would expect it to be - a baby goat's first steps, it's crying for milk from it's mother, the herd grazing calmly beneath blue Vermont skies. And there's sadness too - the aforementioned goat falling ill to a spinal parasite, real recognition of separation as kids are taken away from their mothers. A real emotional roller coaster, this one.
Kessler also does an amazing job of making goat herding seem ancient and universal, bringing in examples from across languages and around the world. In fact, I would recommend it to anyone with an interest in etymology - agricultural etymology, sure, but the examples are so far reaching and permeating that I think they would be of interest to anyone. There's also a lengthy and interesting discussion of goat imagery in religion, from the ancient Greeks to modern Christianity. Hardly surprising as goats are one of the first domesticated animals, another interesting tid-bit as they obviously didn't end up the way their similarly domesticatied counterparts (cows, pigs, chickens) did, confined to factory farms and essentially a mass produced meat commodity.
There is a fair amount of religious musing here too, but handled in the least imposing way. Kessler brings his love of goats and cheese to an almost spiritual level and while that might sound laughable at face value, there is a true beauty in the interconnectedness of his thinkings that I guess you'd just have to read to understand where I'm coming from, as I don't have the vocabulary to describe it other than effortless, I guess. His sentences flow casually and slowly, slowly, you too will see the process of raising goats and creating cheese as Kessler does, a timeless connection between man and nature that skirts on transcendent.
There's really so much to love about this book, whether you're into agriculture, anthropology, history, religion, biology and on and on. It seems as though it would be nearly impossible to tie all of these themes together without sounding rambling or preachy or muddled, but Kessler handles it with first rate flying colors, letting each unfold and interweave at its own pace, only when appropriate. Hands down one of the best books l've read in a long while.
Kessler also does an amazing job of making goat herding seem ancient and universal, bringing in examples from across languages and around the world. In fact, I would recommend it to anyone with an interest in etymology - agricultural etymology, sure, but the examples are so far reaching and permeating that I think they would be of interest to anyone. There's also a lengthy and interesting discussion of goat imagery in religion, from the ancient Greeks to modern Christianity. Hardly surprising as goats are one of the first domesticated animals, another interesting tid-bit as they obviously didn't end up the way their similarly domesticatied counterparts (cows, pigs, chickens) did, confined to factory farms and essentially a mass produced meat commodity.
There is a fair amount of religious musing here too, but handled in the least imposing way. Kessler brings his love of goats and cheese to an almost spiritual level and while that might sound laughable at face value, there is a true beauty in the interconnectedness of his thinkings that I guess you'd just have to read to understand where I'm coming from, as I don't have the vocabulary to describe it other than effortless, I guess. His sentences flow casually and slowly, slowly, you too will see the process of raising goats and creating cheese as Kessler does, a timeless connection between man and nature that skirts on transcendent.
There's really so much to love about this book, whether you're into agriculture, anthropology, history, religion, biology and on and on. It seems as though it would be nearly impossible to tie all of these themes together without sounding rambling or preachy or muddled, but Kessler handles it with first rate flying colors, letting each unfold and interweave at its own pace, only when appropriate. Hands down one of the best books l've read in a long while.
September 6, 2011
This is a sweet book in the genre of "over-educated urbanites, usually writers, who move to Europe or to the country, preferably Vermont, to escape mid-life responsibilities and find their souls via artisanal foods." Snarkiness aside, I liked this book, especially Kessler's admirable musings on the life and spirituality of a shepherd. It is a great lesson on the food chain and circle of life. When he describes recalling the heat of the summer when he feeds his goats, in the midst of winter, the hay he has harvested, and then writes of tasting the green grass and stored energy in his cheeses, it rings right and true. The energy (human and otherwise) it takes to produce a gallon of goat milk, and then a wheel of cheese, is worth any Michael Pollan essay. While it does contain the by-now nearly satirical trip to France to discover the true roots of (fill in the blank: wine, cheese, olives, bread, etc.), he plays this in a minor key, and with only mild aplomb (his cheeses pass muster at a fancy-pants restaurant in NY). Yes, only someone from Berkeley or Brooklyn would do the research he did to find the locale in France most like his in Vermont, all in an effort to more fully exploit its terroir, but he keeps it from being too precious. Instead, with his light, laconic hand (which leaves room for our imagination), it feels right. And besides, who is going to pass up an opportunity to write-off a trip to France?!?
December 5, 2014
I just couldn't finish this book. Sure... there are some interesting facts about goats that I didn't know. But the author's writing style is extremely forced. He uses big words to make himself sound smarter and tries to tell stories in a way that makes his life sound dreamy, but it ends up just not flowing. And all the talk of pastoralism and ancient practices is starting to sound snobbish... and I can't stand it. So the end.
"A goat's anus would open like the aperture of a camera and produce perfectly round pellets, one by one." Followed by the longest eye roll of all time. Enough said.
"A goat's anus would open like the aperture of a camera and produce perfectly round pellets, one by one." Followed by the longest eye roll of all time. Enough said.
August 7, 2020
I was leery of this, as I'm not particularly fond of urbanites who have no clue what they're getting into, and no respect for traditional farmers. But Kessler both acknowledges his fortunate situation (another source of income and so no real worries about this experimental hobby) and earns 'country cred' (helping neighbors bring in their hay crops, getting well & truly dirty, etc.).
It's not quite as poetic and fascinating as the blurbs imply, but pretty close. It's also a fairly easy & quick read. I do wish there was a bibliography, as so very many books were mentioned in the text and it would be nice if they were listed, with others that he must have read but not mentioned, all together. Also Dona is a photographer, so why were there, what, 2? 3? photos in the whole book? :pout:
Speaking of Dona: did she not want to go to France to a rural cheesemaker? Did they flip a coin to see who could go? Or is she a martyr? She sure did work at least as hard as he, it seems. Though their roles are not always made clear, it does seem like he gets the fun parts like going to the meadow & forest, and making the cheeses, and she gets the dirtier more mundane chores.
It's not quite as poetic and fascinating as the blurbs imply, but pretty close. It's also a fairly easy & quick read. I do wish there was a bibliography, as so very many books were mentioned in the text and it would be nice if they were listed, with others that he must have read but not mentioned, all together. Also Dona is a photographer, so why were there, what, 2? 3? photos in the whole book? :pout:
Speaking of Dona: did she not want to go to France to a rural cheesemaker? Did they flip a coin to see who could go? Or is she a martyr? She sure did work at least as hard as he, it seems. Though their roles are not always made clear, it does seem like he gets the fun parts like going to the meadow & forest, and making the cheeses, and she gets the dirtier more mundane chores.
March 16, 2009
If the joy of escaping with a book is one of life's pleasures, then the rapture at being utterly engaged by a book is inestimable. Enraptured was I today with Kessler's Goat Song. From his invitation to follow where his goats lead, to his introspective and spiritual conclusion in which he reads an anagogic parable within cheesemaking, his affinage of milk and spirit, Kessler crafts his sentences, story, and references with the grace and reverence he displays in his relation of raising, herding, and caring for his goats. Absolutely a peer to the agricultural sociologic works of Pollan and Kingsolver, Goat Song bespeaks the need to rediscover an American terroir, tapping into the zeitgeist of eating locally, of relearning what processes and connections exist within a sustainable and harmonious food system, of becoming engaged individually in the joy and profound rightness of cultivating one's own sustenance.
Kessler's peripatetic, caprine-led story meanders from history of language to history of place to history of religion, discovering in each the pastoral underpinnings of human nomadism that reverberate to this day, even if largely unnoticed and forgotten. Though his human mind draws intriguing comparisons and conclusions from the act of herding, Kessler complements his circumlocutions with a plain-spoken assortment of very basic tasks and explanations - dovetailing his pedagogic tangents with the mucking of stalls, the epicurean bliss of making faisselle, the harvesting of the summer hay with neighbors. These history lessons are penned alongside the dramatic - a goat's debilitating illness and coyote predation - and the comedic, epitomized by the trope of animal observation and the life cycle: the copulation scene; providing a literal and figurative sense of the word "horny" and a visual enjoinder to the caprine roots of the word "capricious," Kessler's estrous does are mated to a nearby farm's buck who caprioles and charges and humps any nearby creature to satiate his lust, and, after several attempts, finally inseminates the desired target (but not before achieving a masturbatory feat of auto-fellatio).
Like the bellwether goat guiding the herd, Kessler builds his story to the culmination of raising goats - the cheesemaking - while drawing this act in whorls of meditative and spiritual discovery. He avoids a doctrinate overemphasis, drawing liberally from Jewish, Catholic, and Buddhist sources to examine the threads of land, goat, milk, bacteria, and human that culminate in a wheel of cheese, his tomme, which stands in for and beside the tome that he writes. Both exercises take on the notes of the spiritual quest, the quest around the wheel of time, leading to the never-ending and "imperfectible" state of affinage, French for the final stage of aging and refining a cheese, which Kessler aptly carries to the personal quest he travels.
Shriven of the urban disassociation from nature by the character and caretaking of his goats, Kessler has crafted a piquant pastoral autobiography, attesting to his reacclimation to the rhythms of nature through the goat-eyed perspective that takes bliss as it comes, whether in the form of rich provender or still-cooling chèvre.
Kessler's peripatetic, caprine-led story meanders from history of language to history of place to history of religion, discovering in each the pastoral underpinnings of human nomadism that reverberate to this day, even if largely unnoticed and forgotten. Though his human mind draws intriguing comparisons and conclusions from the act of herding, Kessler complements his circumlocutions with a plain-spoken assortment of very basic tasks and explanations - dovetailing his pedagogic tangents with the mucking of stalls, the epicurean bliss of making faisselle, the harvesting of the summer hay with neighbors. These history lessons are penned alongside the dramatic - a goat's debilitating illness and coyote predation - and the comedic, epitomized by the trope of animal observation and the life cycle: the copulation scene; providing a literal and figurative sense of the word "horny" and a visual enjoinder to the caprine roots of the word "capricious," Kessler's estrous does are mated to a nearby farm's buck who caprioles and charges and humps any nearby creature to satiate his lust, and, after several attempts, finally inseminates the desired target (but not before achieving a masturbatory feat of auto-fellatio).
Like the bellwether goat guiding the herd, Kessler builds his story to the culmination of raising goats - the cheesemaking - while drawing this act in whorls of meditative and spiritual discovery. He avoids a doctrinate overemphasis, drawing liberally from Jewish, Catholic, and Buddhist sources to examine the threads of land, goat, milk, bacteria, and human that culminate in a wheel of cheese, his tomme, which stands in for and beside the tome that he writes. Both exercises take on the notes of the spiritual quest, the quest around the wheel of time, leading to the never-ending and "imperfectible" state of affinage, French for the final stage of aging and refining a cheese, which Kessler aptly carries to the personal quest he travels.
Shriven of the urban disassociation from nature by the character and caretaking of his goats, Kessler has crafted a piquant pastoral autobiography, attesting to his reacclimation to the rhythms of nature through the goat-eyed perspective that takes bliss as it comes, whether in the form of rich provender or still-cooling chèvre.
October 20, 2025
A luminous meditation on goats, cheesemaking, religion, etymology, and the way to paradise.
February 23, 2010
I loved this book because in addition to talking a lot about making cheese, the dude takes a lot of random trips off to talk about goats in history and literature and stuff...he's always shooting off on tangents, and they happen to be tangents that work for me. Your mileage may vary. My wife loved it too though.
March 19, 2024
I am not a milk drinker but I am a happy drinker of goat milk! I am so lucky to have a local source of raw milk, both goat and Jersey cow. I wanted to read this book simply because I have always envision myself making cheese. I make simple, soft cheeses but not hard cheese as the author makes. Making cheese is an art form which takes time and patience of which I confess I don't have. I am an artist but of the visual arts, I am busy enough! I appreciated the poetic approach and insight of the author and I learned quite a bit, perhaps more than I wanted to know about goat sex. Yes, more than I wanted to know, cringing while reading. A solid 4 stars
February 4, 2025
city slickers to goat farmers. fast pace to slow living. raw milk to aged cheese!! when reading this, i felt at home. when not, i missed it. i love this book <3
& yeah, i wanna be a goat farmer now.
& yeah, i wanna be a goat farmer now.
December 30, 2010
I'm moving again.
Well, technically, I'm always moving. Whether to a new apartment, home, city or region, it seems I can't keep myself still. Maybe that's why I continually return to the Midwest: a place that--in the public mindset anyway--looks to be immutable; still. I love the romantic view of a land so broad and uninterrupted that a sunset is not just an event, it's a spectacle.
Yet, if you know anything about Kansas, you know it's anything BUT still: otherworldly winds, cyclones, torrential weather abound.
Sometimes I sense the frontiersman in me--clawing his way out, craving open spaces that can be, in turn, filled with adventure. And I appreciate the desire inherent in that sensuality...while, truthfully, having no goddamned idea how to attain it. I know nothing of mechanics, nothing of survival techniques. I quit the Boy Scouts while still a cub...and most of the time I still feel like a mancub (you can infer homoeroticism in this metaphor, if you'd like).
All of this is why I'm drawn to stories of people giving up cities in order to commune with nature; that express a dream to commune with the primordial pastoralist within us all.
I could comment about the beauty of Kessler's prose; I could rejoice in the way he lyrically describes the disgusting mating rituals of his goats; I could go on and on about the fist-sucking cuteness of his relationship with each pet; rather, I choose to envy the simple bucolic life he ventured into. After growing up in NYC, he chose a life completely void of noise and desperation.
Simplicity, Emerson tells me, is the answer. I want it so bad it hurts. Everytime he describes a sunset, the howls of coyotes, the truly glorious workings of evolution, the spirituality of connecting yourself to the land, the satisfaction of laboring with your hands, the way histories as disparate as linguistics and cheesemaking intertwine...encourages me to see that there's something out there I still should be seeking.
The frontier, I think, doesn't have to be Kansas (or Wyoming or Alaska)--or any open space, for that matter. What this book proved to me is that the frontier we should all be searching for is peacefulness.
Well, technically, I'm always moving. Whether to a new apartment, home, city or region, it seems I can't keep myself still. Maybe that's why I continually return to the Midwest: a place that--in the public mindset anyway--looks to be immutable; still. I love the romantic view of a land so broad and uninterrupted that a sunset is not just an event, it's a spectacle.
Yet, if you know anything about Kansas, you know it's anything BUT still: otherworldly winds, cyclones, torrential weather abound.
Sometimes I sense the frontiersman in me--clawing his way out, craving open spaces that can be, in turn, filled with adventure. And I appreciate the desire inherent in that sensuality...while, truthfully, having no goddamned idea how to attain it. I know nothing of mechanics, nothing of survival techniques. I quit the Boy Scouts while still a cub...and most of the time I still feel like a mancub (you can infer homoeroticism in this metaphor, if you'd like).
All of this is why I'm drawn to stories of people giving up cities in order to commune with nature; that express a dream to commune with the primordial pastoralist within us all.
I could comment about the beauty of Kessler's prose; I could rejoice in the way he lyrically describes the disgusting mating rituals of his goats; I could go on and on about the fist-sucking cuteness of his relationship with each pet; rather, I choose to envy the simple bucolic life he ventured into. After growing up in NYC, he chose a life completely void of noise and desperation.
Simplicity, Emerson tells me, is the answer. I want it so bad it hurts. Everytime he describes a sunset, the howls of coyotes, the truly glorious workings of evolution, the spirituality of connecting yourself to the land, the satisfaction of laboring with your hands, the way histories as disparate as linguistics and cheesemaking intertwine...encourages me to see that there's something out there I still should be seeking.
The frontier, I think, doesn't have to be Kansas (or Wyoming or Alaska)--or any open space, for that matter. What this book proved to me is that the frontier we should all be searching for is peacefulness.
April 17, 2011
If there was any question about whether I had drunk the pastoralism kool-aid, my having digested Brad Kessler's "Goat Song" in less than twenty-four hours should prove it.
While on the F train yesterday:
Lou: I want a goat.
Jeremy: No.
Lou: I want a pair of goats so they don't get lonely.
Jeremy: No.
Lou: You can feed six goats on $745 dollars a year.
Jeremy: Finish a book and then we can talk about it.
Lou: In five years? Then we can have a farm in commuting distance to the city and goats and one horse.
Jeremy: Maybe.
You heard it here first. In five years, I will have a bucolic existence replete with livestock. Emily Giardina: our dreams are coming true.
While on the F train yesterday:
Lou: I want a goat.
Jeremy: No.
Lou: I want a pair of goats so they don't get lonely.
Jeremy: No.
Lou: You can feed six goats on $745 dollars a year.
Jeremy: Finish a book and then we can talk about it.
Lou: In five years? Then we can have a farm in commuting distance to the city and goats and one horse.
Jeremy: Maybe.
You heard it here first. In five years, I will have a bucolic existence replete with livestock. Emily Giardina: our dreams are coming true.
July 11, 2017
I hated everything about this narrator but I loved his goats.
January 2, 2022
Yes. This is it. I’m so glad I picked up this book.
This is more about what it means to be human and what it means to write and what it means to have faith than it is about cheese or goats or Vermont.
Goat equivalent to Emma’s eel book.
If you liked this, you should read When Women Were Birds or maybe this is a book about eels (idk I haven’t read the eel book)
This is more about what it means to be human and what it means to write and what it means to have faith than it is about cheese or goats or Vermont.
Goat equivalent to Emma’s eel book.
If you liked this, you should read When Women Were Birds or maybe this is a book about eels (idk I haven’t read the eel book)
February 9, 2022
Some day I, too, will live with goats.
January 11, 2025
A much-needed mental escape to a simpler life, packed with life lessons and way more than you ever wanted to know about the Bovidae family. Takeaway: unpasteurized milk—seek it, drink it, live it.
September 25, 2020
This books starts off stronger than it ends, but I liked the start enough that it ended up as a four stars over three stars for me. The description of goat farming and the breeding of goats was so accurate. (I grew up with small ruminants). Most of these memoirs about leaving the city and starting a goat farm/alpaca farm etc. are overly sanitized and unrealistically easy. However, there was the tendency to treat this like a solitary endeavor. Farming is not a solitary endeavor. There what clear from when the author mentioned his wife, the critically helpful knowledgeable goat farmer and the neighbors. This can also be seen on haying and barn raising, which are traditionally communal activities. Otherwise, his reflection went towards solitary religious figures and Thoreau. I guess it is a memoir, but the solitary singular focus seems forced at times.
Also, I did not take a star off but really, random diatribes in support of raw milk as an adult male without the understanding of what those disease can do, especially towards elderly, children, pregnant women and the immunocompromised just seems very one sided. Also, the parasite their goat thankfully did not die from is preventable in most cases with a combination of management and seasonally targeted chemoprophylaxis. Even though the vet saved the one goat, the author seemed to me to be very dismissive when a neighbor’s ram died during a procedure to try to remove a tumor that the vet did not just leave the ram alone. It was just and odd relationship with vets but not entirely unusual considering most vets are not supportive of raw milk for public health reasons. Now to end on a positive note, lovely written and nice musing on faith, self, and goats. I recommend it but with some reservations as not to be used as a guide (find a vet before you get the goats) if you want goats but more realistic than most any other memoir of its type that I have read.
Also, I did not take a star off but really, random diatribes in support of raw milk as an adult male without the understanding of what those disease can do, especially towards elderly, children, pregnant women and the immunocompromised just seems very one sided. Also, the parasite their goat thankfully did not die from is preventable in most cases with a combination of management and seasonally targeted chemoprophylaxis. Even though the vet saved the one goat, the author seemed to me to be very dismissive when a neighbor’s ram died during a procedure to try to remove a tumor that the vet did not just leave the ram alone. It was just and odd relationship with vets but not entirely unusual considering most vets are not supportive of raw milk for public health reasons. Now to end on a positive note, lovely written and nice musing on faith, self, and goats. I recommend it but with some reservations as not to be used as a guide (find a vet before you get the goats) if you want goats but more realistic than most any other memoir of its type that I have read.
January 18, 2011
Yet another memoir of an arty Manhattanite with a substantial off-farm income who moved to the boonies and discovered the meaning of life by tilling the soil and eating the produce of his farm. His book is contemplative, historical, and literary as he extolls the joys of herding his goats through the countryside. Read it, and realize that this story has been told eleventy-bajillion times before in just the last decade, not to mention during the back-to-the-land period of the 60's and 70's, and perhaps once a generation going back to the founding of the country.
It's a pleasant read, which is why I rated it as high as possible. It's a love letter to goats and the pastoral lifestyle, and if by reading it you discover an urgent desire to buy a 20-acre tract in New England, I completely understand. If you can afford it, buy a hobby farm, but don't quit your day job until you've written a business plan and figured out how to make and market your artisinal cheese.
It's a pleasant read, which is why I rated it as high as possible. It's a love letter to goats and the pastoral lifestyle, and if by reading it you discover an urgent desire to buy a 20-acre tract in New England, I completely understand. If you can afford it, buy a hobby farm, but don't quit your day job until you've written a business plan and figured out how to make and market your artisinal cheese.
April 27, 2020
Novelist Brad Kessler and his partner, photographer Dona McAdams, leave behind their Manhattan lifestyle and purchase a 75-acre farm in Vermont to fulfill a dream of raising goats. Brad documents their journey from the purchase of the land, through the acquisition of their first two goats, the grueling hours of raising and milking, the help given and received from their country neighbors, and through the process of learning to make cheese from goat milk. The accounting is filled with lively and sometimes gross details. It's a fascinating memoir that I enjoyed very much, even though it caused the death of my own goat-herding dream (more of a retirement fantasy, really). I cannot imagine myself doing the things Brad and his wife did to get to the end result of delicious fresh goat cheese. Looks like my cheese will continue to be the less tasty version I can purchase at the grocery store or from the fancier The Cheese Lady in the nearest larger city.
June 28, 2016
"A book is like a key that fits into the tumbler of the soul. The two parts have to match in order for each to unlock. Then-click-a world opens."
I have not loved a book this much since Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. The author has such a beautiful writing style that I found myself re-reading phrases a few times just to let them soak in. This book is about so many things and like a good cheese, it has layers and terroir. I loved all of the information that I got through his storytelling relating to the goats, herding, milking, American culture, cheese, monks, coyotes, and France (to name a few). I couldn't find enough minutes in the day to devour this book. It made me laugh, learn, cry, and mostly it nourished my soul.
I have not loved a book this much since Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. The author has such a beautiful writing style that I found myself re-reading phrases a few times just to let them soak in. This book is about so many things and like a good cheese, it has layers and terroir. I loved all of the information that I got through his storytelling relating to the goats, herding, milking, American culture, cheese, monks, coyotes, and France (to name a few). I couldn't find enough minutes in the day to devour this book. It made me laugh, learn, cry, and mostly it nourished my soul.
February 26, 2010
Beautifully written story of a couple who left life in the city to raise goats in Vermont. Really liked the ancillary lessons on word origins. TMI on goat sex in the breeding chapter, but all was forgiven when (actually long before) I read this part: "A book is like a key that fits into the tumbler of the soul. The two parts have to match in order for each to unlock. Then --click-- a world opens."
July 26, 2015
Beautiful book. Kessler, a writer, and his wife moved to Vermont and bought a small, rural place. The book is the account of purchasing, raising, tending, and milking Nubian goats. Kessler is a Jew who lived in Dharamsala for a year, conversant about Christianity and mythology, observant of nature and a maker of cheese and philosophy. Plus, poetic!
February 11, 2010
This book was everything I needed it to be. It covers all the vital topics: cheesemaking, goat sex, monks, etymology, mythology, philosophy, and the perfection of the human soul.
June 27, 2023
I love everything about the premise of this book: goats, New England, cheesemaking (chevre, no less!), the anthropology of pastoralism, seasons and homesteading and walks in nature. There is even a fascinating (and, I think, moving) thread of spirituality that runs throughout. The author is Jewish and doesn't reveal his personal religious beliefs, but he speaks of faith and religious practice with reverence, drawing some delightful connections between faith and shepherding, faith and poetry, faith and cheesemaking. The last section — the highlight of the book for me — is an extended meditation that mingles the protocol for making goat's cheese with musings on the monastic theology of time, labor, and sacred space.
As I say, there's a lot to love here. So I'm surprised that I didn't love the book as a whole more than I did. There were superb parts. But most of it was just good. I think I'm spoiled on truly excellent nature writing — and let's face it, no author writing about land and time and husbandry and work is going to sound very profound after Wendell Berry.
Between Kessler's discussions of anthropology, religion, literature, and personal experience, pastoralism starts to look uncomfortably like a Key to All Mythologies...even though I agree, in principle, that pastoralism is as important to history and cosmic order as he claims. I suppose he just ties it all together too neatly. Or maybe it's the journalistic tone of the writing I didn't enjoy.
On the other hand, it was a treat to read so much about shepherding cultures around the world. I just wish it were done with a touch more nuance.
As I say, there's a lot to love here. So I'm surprised that I didn't love the book as a whole more than I did. There were superb parts. But most of it was just good. I think I'm spoiled on truly excellent nature writing — and let's face it, no author writing about land and time and husbandry and work is going to sound very profound after Wendell Berry.
Between Kessler's discussions of anthropology, religion, literature, and personal experience, pastoralism starts to look uncomfortably like a Key to All Mythologies...even though I agree, in principle, that pastoralism is as important to history and cosmic order as he claims. I suppose he just ties it all together too neatly. Or maybe it's the journalistic tone of the writing I didn't enjoy.
On the other hand, it was a treat to read so much about shepherding cultures around the world. I just wish it were done with a touch more nuance.
August 5, 2017
My friend Maryellen recommended this (she read it with our friend Linda on one of their 2-person retreats; they get together for marathon reading sessions), and accurately characterized it as enjoyable and worthwhile because of what the author brings in alongside the story of raising goats.
This is really a good read, I'm sure I only gave it four stars because I am envious of someone who has goats AND wins literary prizes so he can write books about them, too. Talk about having it all!
Seriously, I am way too lazy to care for a dairy animal, but I do think it could be fun to have a pet goat around to cause trouble: Sort of a turbo-charged version of the ornery little dog we used to live with. Maybe it could be a companion animal to Tom's (future) donkey, and then our lives would be completely blissful.
Bonus item, he quotes Virgil's Eclogue IX:
Let's stop here and sing our songs.
Put down the baby goats; we'll make it to town:
Or if you're afraid it's going to rain tonight,
Let's keep on going, but singing as we go.
Singing makes the journey easier.
I'll carry the basket awhile, so you can sing.
This is really a good read, I'm sure I only gave it four stars because I am envious of someone who has goats AND wins literary prizes so he can write books about them, too. Talk about having it all!
Seriously, I am way too lazy to care for a dairy animal, but I do think it could be fun to have a pet goat around to cause trouble: Sort of a turbo-charged version of the ornery little dog we used to live with. Maybe it could be a companion animal to Tom's (future) donkey, and then our lives would be completely blissful.
Bonus item, he quotes Virgil's Eclogue IX:
Let's stop here and sing our songs.
Put down the baby goats; we'll make it to town:
Or if you're afraid it's going to rain tonight,
Let's keep on going, but singing as we go.
Singing makes the journey easier.
I'll carry the basket awhile, so you can sing.
July 8, 2019
People laughed when they heard I was reading a book on goats, and while many will refused to believe me, this is an excellent and fascinating book, even for those who have never given a thought to goats or farming. In Goat Song, Brad Kessler calls us to consider the value of a pastoral life tuned to the rhythms of ruminants.
The book is part memoir of Kessler and his wife Dona’s establishment of their farm – from purchasing, befriending, breeding, milking, making cheese, and caring for their small herd – part history of myriad subjects related to goats, milk, cheese, belief, and even monasticism, and part philosophical rumination on the nature of farming, life, and our relationship to the natural world.
You’ll also want to find the nearest goat farm to beg for a dome of raw milk chèvre.
The book is part memoir of Kessler and his wife Dona’s establishment of their farm – from purchasing, befriending, breeding, milking, making cheese, and caring for their small herd – part history of myriad subjects related to goats, milk, cheese, belief, and even monasticism, and part philosophical rumination on the nature of farming, life, and our relationship to the natural world.
You’ll also want to find the nearest goat farm to beg for a dome of raw milk chèvre.
December 30, 2019
This is one of my favorite writer-turned-farmer stories. Kessler's chronicles the story of how he and he wife Dona buy a farm in Vermont, raise some goats, all to get raw milk and make cheese. In between the experiences of building fences, evaluating does to determine if they're in heat, milking the goats, and learning to make cheese, Kessler explores the history of pastoralism - and the history of the goat. How the goat was enshrined in ancient religions, how it was tossed out by Christianity, etc.
March 13, 2023
For a long time now, I've wanted to raise goats. I've devoured books and YouTube videos on the subject, but until I read Kessler's book, I didn't see the almost spiritual aspects to tending goats, and making cheese. It's true; the book describes making cheese as a sacred process and I bought it, hook, line, and sinker.
I'm certain not everyone would be so wooed by the idea of raising goats - they're labor intensive, sometimes heartbreaking, and sometimes excessively stinky creatures. But in the hands of a beautiful storyteller, the idea becomes irresistibly alluring. I want the goats. I want to make the amazing, patience-demanding cheeses. I want to bottle-feed the adorable kids.
Some day.
I'm certain not everyone would be so wooed by the idea of raising goats - they're labor intensive, sometimes heartbreaking, and sometimes excessively stinky creatures. But in the hands of a beautiful storyteller, the idea becomes irresistibly alluring. I want the goats. I want to make the amazing, patience-demanding cheeses. I want to bottle-feed the adorable kids.
Some day.
October 2, 2024
I picked this book up on a whim at a secondhand bookstore in Philadelphia and didn’t have especially high expectations for it, but I found it incredibly interesting and so enjoyable to read.
I found it so interesting to learn about the way pastoralism has remained woven through our language and lives, although I think I do disagree with the author’s general opinion on pasteurization.
I’m sorry to have finished this book, I’ll miss seeing the looks on people’s faces when I saw “I’m reading a book on goat husbandry.”
I found it so interesting to learn about the way pastoralism has remained woven through our language and lives, although I think I do disagree with the author’s general opinion on pasteurization.
I’m sorry to have finished this book, I’ll miss seeing the looks on people’s faces when I saw “I’m reading a book on goat husbandry.”
June 20, 2017
A friend recommended this book to me. Wasn't sure what I was getting in to, but I loved it! A delightful book of raising goats, making cheese, & pure and simply living life.
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