Return to Port William, the fictional Kentucky town that’s long been home to Wendell Berry’s autobiographical character Andy Catlett, in the thirteen stories collected here that span the decades from the postwar of the last midcentury to today.
The critically acclaimed writer and activist Wendell Berry returns to Port William, the fictional small Kentucky town that forms the basis of his most popular series, with this collection of thirteen new stories.
At the age of 80, Andy Catlett is preparing himself to join the whole Membership of Port William, which includes those departed who still seem vividly alive. As Andy looks back on his own life through these thirteen stories that range from his childhood and his earliest memories to the present day, the expansive Port William story reaches a kind of closure, as gaps long untenanted are filled.
Taking place from 1945-2001, and containing the fabulous humor and warmth that Berry is known for, How It Went reveals Andy in his most loving and retrospective mood, coming to the end of his own days surrounded by the love and memory of family and friends, living among the living and the dead.
Every book of Wendell Berry’s acclaimed Port William Membership stands completely on its own. Even so, as we enter this world, we see characters who leave and who have returned, and we gather a remarkable portrait of a people on the land in a particular place in America.
Wendell Berry is a conservationist, farmer, essayist, novelist, professor of English and poet. He was born August 5, 1934 in Henry County, Kentucky where he now lives on a farm. The New York Times has called Berry the "prophet of rural America."
My reading time in December is always fractured, for obvious reasons. I imagine it's the same for a lot of us. So this turned out to be the perfect time to read these 13 short stories about Andy Catlett. Each one told from his point of view, some of them, interestingly enough, with the Old Andy (exactly Wendell Berry's age) looking back at the Young Andy, with love, understanding, and sometimes, forgiveness. Always remembering the others in the Membership, as Andy is the last of them.
Each story needs to be digested and thought about, as it seems to be Berry's farewell to this world he has created. I sincerely hope I'm wrong about that. The sense of time passing and needing to find ways to deal with a changing world with changing values pervade all of these stories. That's the reason most of them left me a little teary.
I still have 2 remaining books to read about Port William. Then I can begin to re-read them, as never returning to this little corner of Kentucky is unthinkable. For Berry fans and those interested in his work, I don't recommend starting with this one. Save it for last.
I see that we are passing through this world like a river of water flowing through a river of earth.
This book feels like a goodbye. As Andy Catlett looks back over his life, his accomplishments, his joys and trials, and his memories, it feels as if his counterpart, Wendell Berry is doing the same. It is easy to read this into the stories, as Wendell Berry is the elder statesman now. He is eighty-eight, and the production of this book seems a kind of miracle that even he must wonder if he will have the opportunity to ever repeat. In that sense, it is a sad book, but in another, it is a delight, for it is a memory of a job well-done, and what more would a man such as Berry want?
I, like Berry, am on the downside of life. Hopefully a while to go, but knowing I will never hike across a field and leap a fence again. Nope, if I make across the field, I will have to open the gate. Like Berry, I also have more associates of life behind me than with me. I spend too much time, sometimes, thinking of the losses, the absences, the empty spaces. I can walk, mentally, through the house my father built now and see all its flaws, the ones I never saw when I was a child living there. Someone else walks through it now, and I wonder if they love the woods and creek as I did; do they know the best spots to hide with a book and avoid chores–in fact, does anyone have chores anymore?
I think one of the things I love so much about Berry is that he stirs in me memories of my own self, my own raising, and the good people who filled up my world, my mind and my soul. Andy Catlet describes a memory, that isn’t even his own, but has been passed down to him from his grandmother
He sees Grandmother sitting on the step to the back porch of the house as he knew it. She is hulling peas.
What I saw in my mind’s eye was the thin, gaunt face of my own Grandma, who always took the snaps out onto the porch, pinching and snapping them for our dinner. It was one of the rare times during the day you might catch her sitting. There was always so much to be done.
I have walked the woods with Burley Coulter, reclaimed the land with Elton Penn, felt the loneliness of Old Jack and listened to the stories shared in Jayber’s barbershop. While doing so, I have walked the woods with my uncles, Dorsey and Bud; reclaimed the land with my Great-Uncle Naman; felt the loneliness of my Uncle Shem, who married so late in life but is remembered mostly as the perpetual bachelor at my Granny’s house; and listened quietly in a corner to the laughter of my Daddy and his brother, W.L., who ran, of all things, the community barbershop, and traded stories galore.
Lest I make it sound like there are only men of strong character to be found within these pages, let me tip my hat to all the women who stand behind them and make them strong. To Grandma Lizzie, who dares to mount up, still dressed in her nightgown, and reclaim her man from a kidnapping by soldiers of either the Confederacy or the Union (that detail having been forgotten); to Mary Penn, who states bravely, when asked how Elton weathered the storms of life, “he had me”; and to Lyda Branch, who links her arm in Danny’s and forms a couple that thinks and acts as one person.
Thank you, Mr. Berry, for all your stories, for sharing the membership, for transporting me home. It has been a very personal journey for me.
If you have not read any of Mr. Berry’s works, don’t start with this one. This is a swan song. Get to know these wonderful people first. I suggest a lovely place to start is Jayber Crow. I first entered Port William in his company, and I have never wanted to leave it for very long.
What a pleasure it is to get to read a NEW book of stories published by Wendell Berry this year in 2022. I have been trying to read through all of his novels since I first read Jayber Crow in 2019 and I am making good headway. His writing style and storytelling ability have become a favorite of mine. Berry’s 88 years have been full and he has given his readers such a wonderful and memorable collection of stories and characters to get to know and become close with. In these stories, Berry’s mature wisdom shines as well as his love for this community.
Berry, through Andy Catlett, the character that is most like himself, reflects back on the past members of the Port William community. Andy has lived the old ways and has seen all of the members who valued those ways pass on, and he is the only one remaining. His reminiscing has a tone of solace to it but always the love and admiration for those who have come and gone. There is a sentiment of nostalgia and a sadness for the changing times and passage into the age of machines.
The thirteen stories in this collection span from VJ Day, the last day of WW II when Andy is 11 to present day. We see Andy Catlett at varying stages of life from boyhood onward. Andy remembers learning the value of work from the hired hand Dick Watson. He remembers how Dick’s influence over him and the lessons he learned by his side watching him work played a big part in the man he grew to become. This collection is not without its humor and yarn spinning tales yet the melancholy is ever present. Andy’s life changes in a drastic way in one story but Berry handles the situation in a very sensitive manner.
I will look forward to the next Berry novel I pick up next year. I have several on the backlist to get to still but I do hope that Berry continues to pen more and more stories of the Port William membership. The world is so lucky to still have someone like Wendell Berry still writing stories filled with humility and wisdom.
Filled with memories—beauty-sorrow - humor Andy Catlett looking back…..
“Andy would know loss and losses, he would live into the absence of great and irreplaceable things uselessly destroyed. He would know much of sorrow. But he would see also much more of the world and its beauty, and of great and beautiful things that humans, uncompleted as they are, have made. He would find, or be found by, the friends and books, the teachers, he would need, often when he most would need them. Love in person, and in person’s, would come to him. Happiness would come to him, sometimes, for good reasons, sometimes, for no reason. He thinks of his good fortune, and his eyes, once so clear and wide, filled with tears.”
How It Went recalls episodes from the life of Andy Catlett, a farmer of Port William, from his childhood in the 1940s into the new millennium as he looks back from his 80s. As happens in any Port William story, other familiar names appear during these tales, names that readers of Wendell Berry’s many Port William books will recognize.
Here, Andy, who is a stand in for the author most obviously at times, views his early love for being on the farm rather than in school. While he writes beautifully of the setting and aspects of life in the country, this older Andy is also a realist. He is able to recognize how difficult the farm life was for his grandparents, his father-who chose to be a lawyer, and those other men and women he met as he grew up and began his own farm life.
The descriptions of friendship, so much said with so few words, is again, beautiful. And there are some great stories of pranks and silly stories as well as the gift of story telling itself.
A major reason to read this book is Berry’s insights into people, relationships, behavior, history, time, love, and the subtler impacts of industrialization and mechanics on farming people and their lives and relationships to the earth and each other. There are messages for all of us to consider.
Highly recommended for anyone who has read Wendell Berry and I do suggest everyone give Berry a try, perhaps with one of the earlier books to start. There are many great books to choose from. Then read about Andy.
Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for an ARC of this book.
Wendell Berry takes us back to Port William, Kentucky, with thirteen new short stories. The farming community has undergone many changes over the years with industrialization bringing problems as well as conveniences. Most of the stories are told from the perspective of Andy Catlett as a child, an adult, and as an aging man.
The stories have a sense of community, a love of family, and an appreciation of the land, but also a regret that the simpler rural way of life is now passing us by. There is humor in many of the stories, but there is a slightly different tone compared to Berry's earlier works. Author Wendell Berry has aged along with his character, Andy Catlett, and they are both idealizing the early 20th Century and feeling some trepidation of what the future will bring. Other important themes that run through the book are taking pride in doing a job well, and being aware of others that may need help due to age, injuries, or financial reasons.
A new reader of Wendell Berry's fictional books should start with his earlier novels and short stories since this book is a nostalgic look back. A visit to Port William is always a special experience.
A great addition to the Port William books. I enjoyed seeing the area through Andy Catlett's eyes and perspective as an older man looking back through the years; documenting how farming and family/friends changed.
Nostalgia of a time which never was. Most of us come from this agrarian world by way of our forefathers and foremothers, and these stories mourn the loss of it all for the poor tradeoff of the modernity most of us tell ourselves we so desperately wish to escape.
The praise of work, skillfully executed, unhurried yet on time is what remains, and must remain no matter how much the world changes. The pride in a job well done, regardless of whether we have the luxury of being part of the landed aristocracy.
This collection is a fine way to pass an afternoon, or several quiet winter evenings.
Wendell Berry and his fiction about Port William, KY are a gift and a treasure. This collection of short stories visits Andy Catlett over the years from 1945 to the present. As always, Berry’s fiction is luminous and his characters are ones I deeply wish I knew. Berry portrays the passing of a way of life that I never experienced directly but that I’ve caught glimpses of in my father and grandparents all my life. I’m beyond grateful to Mr. Berry that I’m able to visit this life I’ve not been lucky enough to live myself.
A very biased review as I’ve long loved the writings of Wendell Berry. This nostalgic glimpse of Port William through the eyes of Andy Catlett is a treasure. Poetically lyrical, a beautiful read, not to be missed.
I read Wendell Berry’s The Memory of Old Jack when it came out in paperback in 1985. It was an experience I never forgot. I passed the book on to my father and brother to read. I found it on my dad’s bookshelf after he died. Over the years, I remember reading Berry’s poetry and some non-fiction books. How did I miss all of the Port William fiction? I was living in small towns, and it was before Internet access, and I had a child. Reading How It Went, I hope to return to the novels about these characters.
The world Berry writes about was not my world. It was disappearing while my dad was a teenager. Berry’s Andy Catlett was a teenager in the 1940s, as was my dad. Port William was still farmland, before the mechanization of farming. As a teen, my dad helped out the neighboring farmer John Kuhn, driving his tractor. Photographs of Kuhn and his farm from decades before that show the world Andy grew up in. By the time of my birth, post-war housing had sprung up on the farmland.
The stories in How It Went are beautifully written. There is humor and sadness, and great nostalgia for a kind of community that has disappeared. A place that had shared stories, where people helped each other. But there is also prejudice and judgement. From the perspective of old age, Andy understands the beauty of the old world and how quickly it disappeared. Now, most of his friends are “in the graveyard on the hill.” Who is left to remember, to tell their stories?
We were telling of course the story, clearly ongoing and with no foreseeable end, of the departure of the people and the coming of the machines. from How It Went by Wendell Berry
the boy Andy wants nothing more than to do a man’s work. He attaches to hired hand Dick, who he greatly loved and admired, and who patiently taught him the quiet pride of workmanship. His grandmother told him the stories of the past while he longs to escape outdoors. His father longed to be a full time farmer, but unable to make ends met becomes a lawyer to pay the bills.
Farmers warn against purchasing farming machines, against borrowing money which could be a trap to lose everything. Several years of bad harvest and you can’t pay back the loan, and you lose the farm.
The stories are an elegy to time gone, the end of a way of life. Andy understands that the stories were disappearing as fewer remembered them. “I see that we are passing through this world like a river of water flowing through a river of earth,” our lives being a chance to learn “something of love,” this being “the order of things, nothing to complain about.”
As gorgeous and evocative as these stories are, I was sometimes too aware of the idealism of the past. Elders have always talked about the ‘good old days’ when things were better. Andy’s good old days still included coal furnaces and food fueled cooking fires. There was danger and prejudice and ostracism.
I greatly enjoyed these beautifully written stories.
I received an ARC from the publisher through NetGalley. My review is fair and unbiased.
When I need a really fine story, I always turn to Wendell Berry. This one does not disappoint. We return to the fictional Kentucky town of Port William to hear old Andy Catlett reminisce and reflect on a long life and lifelong friends. Always philosophical, Andy remembers losing his right hand in a farming accident, hearing the stories of Grandmother, and teaches us the right way to load brush. He commends hard work and attention to detail, and long conversations between friends. He grieves the loss of his life long ago when mules were farmer's companions and workers. He pretty much hates machines and how they destroy the land he loves. All and all, Andy loves remembering.
I received this book from Counterpoint Press in exchange for an honest review.
I was thankful to learn that Wendell Berry had written more stories from Port William. I love returning to that fictional place that is almost more real than the world. Since it may be the last time I read new tales from it, I gave myself permission to read them very slowly and savor them.
I have spent the last year working through some of Berry’s essays since I have read most of his fiction. In this work, I see the ideas of his essays more explicitly expressed in his fiction. The two genres have almost coalesced into one. Berry, like all of us, is aging, and I think he is bringing our attention once again to what he feels is most important: attentive care of the land that supports us, fidelity to the community of people, alive and dead, who surround us, and humility instead of careless brashness before the mysteries of both nature and people.
A friend once told me that when he reads Wendell Berry, “the world is finally right.” That is how I feel too.
With that I’ve read all of the Port Williams stories, short or long. I love Wendell Berry and I love the characters. It feels fitting that this book is told all from the perspective of Andy Catlett. As the last of the membership his is the only voice left to tell the stories. They carried more of an emotional weight because of that, similar to A Place in Time but a little more powerful. I don’t think anyone else writes like this, and while I hope there are more stories about this town and community, this also felt like a fitting end. One line is sticking with me, repeated several times. “Ay God, I know what a man can do in a day.”
I approached this as something to savor, lingering over each short story, not wanting it to end too quickly. As I read Berry's stories of Port William I know that I will return to them over and over throughout my life, finding something different each time.
If reading Wendell Berry doesn’t make you want to drop everything, move to the country, forsake tractors, plant a garden, and talk more with your grandparents, you’re reading it wrong.
How It Went: Thirteen More Stories of the Port William Membership — Wendell Berry
I've read quite a few of Berry's books. You could say I'm a fan boy, if a 61 year old is allowed to use that term. And I would further offer that there are books that don’t feel “new” so much as added, almost like someone walked into a room you’ve lived in and loved for years, straightened a lamp, set another place at the table, then somehow the whole house feels more itself. How It Went is that kind of book: thirteen stories that deepen the Port William world by circling back through one life, Andy Catlett’s, and letting memory do what memory does best, which is to make time non-linear, moral, and intimate all at once. Berry frames this collection through Andy at around eighty, looking back as he readies himself, quietly, without melodrama, for what Port William calls joining “the whole Membership,” the living and the dead, the remembered and the still-working, the people who remain present in a community long after their bodies quit. That concept alone tells you what Berry is up to: not nostalgia, not a scrapbook, but a serious and tender accounting of what a life means when it’s measured by obligation, kinship, labor, and love of place. These stories span decades, often described as running from the 1930s up into the 2020s, and they’re less a chronological biography than a moral portrait assembled from shards: a boyhood incident, an adult injury, an argument remembered, a death absorbed, a neighbor’s voice still audible years later. Berry uses Andy as the central consciousness, but the true protagonist is the Port William “Membership” itself, community as a living organism, with memory as its bloodstream. If you come to Berry expecting plot fireworks, he will not oblige. If you come expecting the slow, muscular drama of lived life, work done well, grief endured, love practiced imperfectly, and the constant pressure of modern “progress” against rural continuity, you’ll feel like you’ve been handed something rare. Berry’s fiction has always carried the conviction that work is a moral language. In How It Went, that conviction becomes almost elegiac, not despairing, but aware of how fragile the old coherences are. The collection is frequently described as shadowed by the threatened end of rural life in America, and you can feel that pressure behind even the gentlest scenes. One of the most affecting things Berry does here is refuse the modern habit of turning pain into spectacle. When injury, death, or humiliation enters, Berry keeps his voice calm, almost pastoral, and that calmness doesn’t diminish the sorrow; it dignifies it. A Publishers Weekly summary highlights a story (“Dismemberment”) in which Andy loses his right hand to a harvesting machine and then spends decades learning to live inside that loss with the help of friendship and community. That’s Berry in a nutshell: not tragedy as headline, but tragedy as something neighbors carry with you, season after season. Another story singled out in that same review (“The Great Interruption”) begins with a comic mishap, a boy falling out of a tree and inadvertently interrupting an illicit rendezvous, then widens into a meditation on storytelling’s role in a community, and what’s lost when that shared narrative frays. It’s an extremely Berry move: start with humor or ordinary embarrassment, then quietly widen the lens until you realize he’s talking about civilization.
Style: plainspoken, lyrical, exact Berry’s sentences are deceptively simple. He writes with a plainness that is not minimalism; it’s discipline. A Kirkus review calls these “simple, lyrical, immersive stories about work, neighbors, and the land,” and that’s exactly right. The lyricism never struts. It arrives as accuracy, naming the world correctly, noticing without exploiting. The cumulative effect, especially across thirteen stories, is a kind of moral attentiveness. Berry isn’t trying to dazzle you with cleverness. He’s trying to re-train your eye and your conscience, to make you notice the cost of throwing away places, crafts, and people in the name of convenience. Why this feels important within the Port William canon - A lot of story cycles keep expanding outward forever. How It Went feels closer to an inward turning: Andy looking back, and Berry, late in his career, stitching “gaps long untenanted” (to borrow the publisher’s phrasing) and offering a sense of closure without tying things up with a bow. This isn’t “the end” of Port William so much as a deep exhale, an elder voice saying: this is what it amounted to, this is what held, this is what failed, and this is what still deserves reverence. That’s also why the book lands with such quiet force: it’s not only about Andy. It’s about what any of us will have, in the end, our acts, our loyalties, our harms, our repairs, and the people who remember us honestly. Who will love this, and who might not - You’ll probably love How It Went if you like:
a. stories where character and community matter more than plot twists
b. fiction that treats place as a moral reality, not just scenery
c. writing that’s tender without being sentimental
d. books that reward slow reading and reflection
You may struggle with it if you need:
a. a strong forward-driving narrative
b. a single conflict escalating toward a conventional climax
c. a sharply “contemporary” tone or irony-first worldview
My verdict
This is five-star Berry: humane, patient, and quietly radical in its insistence that a good life is made of small fidelities kept over time. The stories don’t shout; they stay. And once you’ve spent time in Port William under Berry’s care, a lot of modern fiction starts to feel noisy, hurried, and oddly lonely by comparison. I find all his books to be a breath of fresh air. I love Southern Gothic's and occasionally I will pickup yet another of Berry's books to get my equilibrium back. I highly recommend everything he's written. I you were going to begin reading him, I would suggest you start your journey with Jayber Crow (fiction), or the essay collection The Art of the Commonplace (non-fiction) if you prefer essays and non-fiction. He has many to choose from and I pray he has more up his sleeve.
The most recent Port William book contains thirteen stories, all narrated by or featuring Andy Catlett calling up memories from throughout his life. The stories are alternately about him directly and about other Port William members. It’s clear that Andy is Berry’s stand-in for himself. They were born in the same year, have similar life experiences, and are both writers. Berry uses Andy to espouse his views on rural life and community, and some stories here are more effective than others. The shorter ones, while well-written, don’t feel quite substantial enough. Some are brief sketches, with few ideas and little plot. The longer ones are very good, my favorite being “The Great Interruption.” It’s about a young Billy Gibbs witnessing two people having sex, only to accidentally and hilariously interrupt them in the act. The story is also tinged with sadness, and I love how Berry tells it. Other standouts include “The Art of Loading Brush” and “A Rainbow.” These stories round out some Port William history in lovely ways, even if I did notice some repetition in them.
I believe I have now read all of Berry’s Port William fiction. I love this world he’s created, with its intricate history, wonderful characters, and ethos of community. This book is not one of Berry’s best, though I think that’s because he works better with longer stories or novels than he does the brief stories present here. Still, I’m confident I will read this book again, along with all the Port William books, and will cherish them for years to come.
Wendell Berry’s latest collection of essays on the Port William Membership feels like a newsy letter from a friend. This time, Berry’s leisurely storytelling spotlights Andy Catlett, now 80 years old, as he looks back over his shoulder at the place he has inhabited within the close-knit community he calls home.
The thirteen stories of How It Went provide plenty of space for wise and winsome conversations spanning a panorama of topics from the the comings and goings of the Membership and the mixed blessing of “progress” to the movement of the Port William economy away from its agricultural base.
Andy’s voice lends just the right touch of cranky nostalgia to the mindset of “using the world’s fundamental tools to do the world’s fundamental work.” It’s phrases like this that require me to read Berry always with pen in hand. His essay titled “The Art of Piling Bush” is worth the price of the book on its own.
In Port William, the land takes on the status of a character as the Membership discusses its gifts and its requirements. Andy recalls with fondness his father’s observation about the homeplace, “This land responds to good treatment.” May this be said of us all.
Many thanks to Counterpoint and NetGalley for providing a copy of this book to facilitate my review, which is, of course, offered freely and with honesty.
They completed one another, not by proposing any such thing, as a marriage might, but merely by caring about one another and by being available when needed.
For himself, he has finally understood that, however it may be loved for itself, money is only the means of purchasing something of real worth that is not money. To live almost entirely, or entirely, by purchase, as many modern people do, is to depress the worth of every actual thing to its price. And so the symbol limits and controls the thing it symbolizes, and like a rust or canker finally consumes it. Buying and selling for money is not simply a matter of numbers and accounting, it is also a dark and fearful mystery.
We sat perfectly still, for what I believe we both thought an allotted time. We understood that this would happen to us only once. It might happen again, but we would not be there together to see it. We knew that we could not remain in that beautiful light. We needed to go before it was gone, so as not to spoil it by our too much wanting.
Wendell Berry doesn’t fail. He has in his late life grown more and more fascinated by memory. He wants to remember well great stories and never fail to tell them well. I know well these fictional characters and stories and Berry has never ceased to write them with style and honesty. He is the master of this style.
I can’t help but also reflect on how unique he is as a southern author. There is no gothic themes. No dark creeping horror as in Faulkner or rash. There is just honest stories told stylistically perfect
The only problem that I have is his insistence on the antagonist of his stories being modernity every time. His best stories like Jayber Crow and A Place on Earth use a more subtle style while still delivering the point. Nevertheless, his storytelling is practically flawless.
This is the first Wendell Berry book I've ever read and it feels like a very uneven collection of stories. The first several in the book really had me questioning why people love Wendell Berry, because they veer too heavily into the grumpy-old-white-man-who-thinks-absolutely-everything-was-better-in-the-past territory. I almost gave up. But am so glad I didn't. Because the second half of the book made me realize why people love his writing: it is slow and gorgeous and evokes a time and place that you can appreciate and miss without every having been there. In these stories, the fact that they world, in a farming community, actually maybe really was better suddenly became understandable.
So while this sounds odd, I'd really recommend reading half of the book. Start with The Great Interruption and go from there.
The latest collection of Port William short stories revisits many familiar characters (though predominantly Andy Catlett) and parallels some of the themes found in The Need to be Whole. I found some of the stories memorable and/or laugh-out-loud funny, but I didn't feel especially gripped by any of them. This may be due to a gap in my own reading (I've mostly read his earlier fiction and few short stories), but a vital connection to Port William seemed to be absent. Devoted readers of Berry's fiction will likely enjoy these additional scenes, stories, and reflections, but I don't think they are essential to the lore of Port William.
I think Berry is an incredible story teller, and I have always been fond of his poetry and short stories. I think this little collection of stories really highlighted what Berry does well. Berry’s use of language almost seems to transcend mere words.
That said, Berry’s work is hindered by his hiraeth for a non-existent past that reside in reruns of Little House on the Prairie, the imaginations of young boys playing make believe, and in the propaganda of the new right. But not in the lived experience of real people.
I love Berry’s use of language and ability to effectively tell a story, yet I believe this work could have been made better without the nostalgia of a imagined past.
I don’t know the time long into the future of time when I will be remembered. perhaps a daffodil will bloom or a cloud fluffs on the horizon paused in a wrinkle of time. suppose my face appears atop the grey cloud and the daffodil says, “Stop!” yes, that’s when you remember the warm hugs the misty eyes I don’t know the time long into the future of time when I will be remembered.
Wendell Berry transports us into a time that touches the heart of memory. Sometimes the memories that he brings to the surface are real and some are desired. When you complete a Berry novel you have a sense that you have been a silent guest in a hidden place that can never be completely explained unless you experience it.