Wisdom of the Last Farmer: Harvesting Legacies from the Land

by David Mas Masumoto

A slow-food advocate and award-winning author of Epitaph for a Peach describes his reevaluation of farming life in today's world after his father suffered a debilitating stroke, his reclaim of ancestral wisdom while nursing his father back to health, and his impassioned perspectives on the importance of connecting to the land.

Genres: Food, Nonfiction, Memoir, Biography, Environment, Agriculture, Gardening

256 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 2009

About the author

David "Mas" Masumoto is an organic peach and grape farmer and author of Epitaph for a Peach (1995), which offers a glimpse of life on a family farm in Central California, Letters to the Valley, A Harvest of Memories (2004), Four Seasons in Five Senses, Things Worth Savoring (2003), and Harvest Son, Planting Roots in American Soil (1998). His organic farming techniques have been employed by farmers across the nation.

Masumoto earned his B.A. in sociology from the University of California, Berkeley and an M.S. in community development 1982 from the University of California, Davis. He is the winner of the UC Davis “Award of Distinction” from the College of Agricultural and Environmental Sciences in 2003. He was a founding member of California Association of Family Farmers. He has served on the California Tree Fruit Agreement research board and has been a member of the Raisin Advisory Committee research board.

Masumoto and his wife have two children. They reside in an 90 year old farmhouse surrounded by their vineyards and orchards just outside of Del Rey, California which is 20 miles south of Fresno.

(from Wikipedia)

Reviews

[Nathan Albright · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book is no more than half of an interesting conversation that one can find between authors like this one and authors like Victor Davis Hanson who, despite very different cultural and political views nonetheless has a lot of the same things to say as a family farmer struggling to deal with the unprofitable raisin market. Indeed, what I found most striking about this book was trying to triangulate between the two authors and my own background coming from a farming family to see how it is that very different people with very different views can nonetheless find a great deal of similarity simply by struggling with the horrific problems of how to keep a family farm afloat in the contemporary age. If the author does not have a great deal of insight into that problem, this book does fit the general downbeat mood of just about all writing that exists about family farms. Anyone who writes or knows anything about family farms has the grim feeling of writing about or being the last farmer. It is worthwhile in this context to recognize that these accounts are all broadly similar, suggesting that the structural issues of farming trump any sort of view that someone brings into the task.

This book is a bit more than 200 pages and has five parts and 29 small chapters. Indeed, many of this book's chapters appear like blog entries, or like small articles made for various rags that the author is involved in. The book begins with a foreword that talks about the author and his peaches. This is followed by four chapters that discuss why it is that one should farm (I, 1-4), including a discussion about family heirlooms, the price of perfections, as well as the last orchard. This is then followed by looking at what one does when things break (II), including chapters on what it means to call one's father a weed, how one lives with insults, resilience, shoveling sand, and getting back to work again. After that comes a section of chapters on farm works (III), including junk, French plowing, hardpan economics, and falling down. Another set of chapters then looks at planting memories (IV), including killing an orchard to save the farm, farming with ghosts, missing stories, and fields of gold. Finally, the book ends with chapters on succession (V), including the question of how many harvests are left, what it means to abandon a vineyard, and questions of preservation, after which the author closes with acknowledgements.

What does it mean to be a last farmer? This book gives a picture of what it involves. While I must admit that I am by no means fond of the author's political worldview, for he considers himself to be a leftist, most of the book mercifully focuses on other aspects of being a last farmer. So we read stories about the stroke that the author's father had, and his attempts to recover from the stroke and keep working despite his handicaps. We see the author's own efforts at farming and seeking to profit by going organic while dealing with the inevitable pests that attack fruit trees, of which the author's farm had plenty. The author deals with matters of identity in his own family--looking at the difference between firstborn and second children, as well as how it felt for him and for his children to go to college and deal with being from the "other California" that is often forgotten despite its population and agricultural importance. Perhaps most interestingly, the author deals with the hardscrabble economics of farming, pointing out how economic survival for farms often interferes with political goals, and how poverty tends to become entrenched through generational patterns of failure and struggle.

[David Stanley · Rating 5 out of 5]

The great thing about Mas Masumoto's books is I can use the same review. Here it is. "Every book that Mas Masumoto writes has deep roots - to family, his ethnicity, the soil. Every book that Mas Masumoto writes is done in prose that makes you turn the page, not just for what he says, but how he says it. And every book Mas writes takes you to his next book, and brings you back to re-read his earlier works. His books make you feel good about being human. Highest recommendations." Yes, he's that good.

[Tarah · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is not just a book about what it feels like to grow up in the Central Valley-- in fact, in most ways, it is not a book about that at all. This is a lovely and lyrical book about family, coping with aging, taking care of parents, and the changing seasons of land and life.

But as someone who grew up in the valley, it is also VERY much a book about what it means to grow up in the Central Valley. It is a book that FELT like my hometown. Not for nothing, the Masumotos live about 5 miles from my hometown... though "town" is a strong word for a census-designated area of about 1k people.

I don't know what it's like to read this as someone who is not from this space, but I do know what it is like to read it as someone who is not OF this space. Another Goodreads reader noted in their review that it made them feel "nostalgic" for home (in the valley). I miss many things about the valley: the smell before it rains, produce everywhere, fog at Christmas, mariachi music, the rhythm of (harvest) seasons. But I am not nostalgic for it. Even as a kid, I knew leaving was inevitable and right. And reading this book now, 25 years later, that remains true.

This book transcends the limits of hometown readers, and it's worth reading if nothing else to understand better where your food comes from: what it means to farm and the human reality it takes to make the food we consume without too much thought. It's also a very thoughtful meditation on aging, aging parents, and the mundane but earth-shattering changes of life.

My one complaint about the book is the cover, which is beautiful, but also LOL. The valley is flat and dry and *not* nestled up against those rolling, green hills. Life here is not beautiful, like the cover makes it look: it is beautiful only if people make it beautiful. Which I never fully found a way to do.

[Branden Teicheira · Rating 5 out of 5]

As a younger farmer in the central valley I really appreciate this story about family, farming and struggle. The uphill battle with time, weeds, nature, and the trials and tribulations of finding your way in a world that can be cruel and reject those that don't fit in. Thank you David Mas Masumoto, it was an honor to read

[J · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not quite life changing enough to merit 5 stars but really close. 4.5 at least!
Read this while home sick and felt nourished just by reading.
I was already a Mas fan, but I feel that this book really pulls the bigger story together, with plenty of references to past events and characters to fill in those of us who haven't read his stuff in a while.
This is non-fiction at its best: humble yet universal, approachable yet lingering, plain spoken yet beautiful.
I can't imagine how he finds time to write so deeply and beautifully while working so many hard hours! Maybe its all that alone time in the fields?

A highly recommended read for anyone who values family, farming, food, California history (and current events), or just needs a deep drink of proverbial water.

[Jo Sullivan · Rating 4 out of 5]

I heard the author speak in 2009 and finally read this book. Thought provoking quotes follow.

"Growing up, our home was filled with a simple worldview but with a complexity that may have stemmed from being Japanese and Buddhist. We didn't have 10 commandments to help guide us with farm work or life's work. Right and wrong never carried the weight of sin.
...Instead, my parents carried the baggage of the past into the future. Karma – the basic law of cause-and-effect – ruled a lot of our actions."
The Japanese word "bachi" roughly translates to "what goes around, comes around." "Take care of the trees and vines, and they'll take care of us."
"Life had consequences" was their message, which communicated the importance of personal responsibility..."
"This philosophy worked quite well with farming, where nature and human nature partner. We never wildly celebrated success; after all, a good harvest was a product of many things working for us during prior seasons. We also never had absolute failures; bad news was a result of multiple forces working against us. We didn't need to assign blame."

Accepting that some things can't be helped compels me to ask better questions. Instead of futile whys, I ask, Given the circumstances, what can I do best?"

"There are no quick solutions to the farming crisis. Rarely do the unseen garner attention. Local leaders focus on attracting new industry and better paying jobs, forgetting our agrarian roots and family farms even though they still comprise a multibillion-dollar industry that generates well-paying, skilled jobs. But agriculture is still supported on the backs of low-wage earners. The ghosts who help grow our food will always be around. Wishing they'd go away will only drive them from the valley into another country, which would be our own loss as a nation. Yet many seem to find comfort in keeping the invisible invisible."

"I farm with gourmet dust. I breathe it; I eat it; it has become part of me and I part of it."

"Good pruning is really the art of taking away, like a sculpture chiseling at a rock, working to uncover life inside."

"How many harvests do you have left?"..."Not knowing how many harvests I have left may help me live more wisely. I can still work with hope: hope that there is a future I can contribute to; hope that I can still leave behind significance; hope that sustains me into the future, because part of the future is yet to be created."

"We farm memories into our fruits..."
"A great peach focuses us in the present moment and also transports us to someplace else: the memory of a tree in a grandpa's backyard, of mothers and daughters in summer kitchens canning peaches or making jam, of summer visits to a farm where we lost our peach virginity and truly tasted flavor for the first time. The peach taste tells you of its own time and place, the feel of the warm sun on its leaves, the energy of its veins and flesh as it draws its nourishment and water up through stem and root, its love of minerals and elements from deep underground, mined by rootlets and transported cell by cell into the perfect balance of sweet and acid. It's the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and better..."

"Each of us have to choose, in the course of his brief life, between endless striving and wise resignation, between the delights of disorder and those of stability...To choose between them, or to succeed, at last, in bringing them into accord," Margueite Yourcenar wrote.

"In the end all we are left with are stories and memories that are acts of love."

[Sandra · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is the book I wish had been written and that my husband and I could have read before we foolishly purchased a home with 400 peach trees not far from the land this author describes. It's a love story - love of family, love of the land, love of heritage - and yes - love of farming. Masumoto's eloquent essays tell of the blood, sweat, and tears it takes to be a small family farmer in California today. He writes of the horrors of Johnson grass and puncture weed - and the endless work to battle these enemies. He writes of the Japanese immigrant and the displacement of the Japanese during WW II - though as told by family, since he was born later. He writes also of the experience of his family as his father suffers two massive strokes - the effect on his father and on the family as his Dad partially recovers. He writes of the wonders of WD-40 and explains farm equipment. - and how it is carefully repaired. He writes of the lonely solitude also enjoyed by farmers. He writes of the "good enough" attitude that for better-or-worse pervades the psyche of the Central Valley. He writes of the many difficult choices farmers must make as they monitor their trees and vines and determine when it's time to remove them. He writes of the heart and soul and love of the land that's necessary to farm and feel some measure of success. Truly a GOOD READ!

[Paul Peterson · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not bad writing for a farmer, although a little repetitive at times and not very polished. That's OK, though, as he has important things to say about the land and our connection to it.

"A layer of soil cemented by almost insoluble materials, hardpan is a rock that breaks farmers. The hardpan of the Central Valley was forming during the time of the dinosaurs, a hundred million years ago, when the land that would eventually become California was at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. The collision of tectonic plates eventually pushed up a two-mile deep trench in that ocean floor to become the Central Valley. Our goo loamy soil comes from the erosion of the mountains and volcanoes around us over millions of years after the valley's rise."

"A Japanese parable: 'Nana korobi, ya-oki.' Fall down seven times, get up eight."

"Our man-made 'river' gently slopes from the head gate and brings us water for months during the heat of summer, an amazing engineering feat considering the lack of tractors and bulldozers a hundred years ago."

"I teach what I know and see that it can change the world, not with a vast project requiring huge amounts of resources and money. Instead, I dimply focus on making things a little better than they were before."

[Karen P · Rating 3 out of 5]

Colorful imagery, plenty of passion and sentimentality. And I adore peaches! One chapter made a statement that might have been a decent proposal in the debate for stimulus checks: Masumoto is describing the junk pile on every farm where broken things are heaped, and repair parts salvaged, the endless uses of baling wire, and the art sculptures that can be erected from curious artifacts in the 'junk pile'. He drifts from there to a view of today's duct tape, and the open-ended possibilities of things that can be mended with strips of wide silvery duct tape. Masumoto suggests: "Imagine if politicians could adopt a duct-tape work ethic and be able to admit whenever they don't have the answer - they could revert to duct tape solutions...and acknowledge when duct tape works well enough. We're in an economic downturn. Money is not easy to come by. To boost economic recovery, perhaps we should send everyone a roll of duct tape to fix things and save money. We might even discover situations for which duct tape works so well that it becomes a permanent solution." Yep. 'Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without.'

[Judy · Rating 4 out of 5]

David Masumoto is a a third generation family farmer. His grandparents and parents worked in the fields because Japanese couldn't own land in America at the turn of the century. After interment during WW2, his father bought land in the Central Valley of California to raise grapes for raisins, tangerines and especially, peaches. His dad had a stroke, which changed everything on their farm. This is part memoir, part farming methods and philosophy. Farming for profit meant they had to please the brokers and the supermarkets. Peaches didn't taste good anymore. So he turned to organic farming and bringing back the heirloom trees. Through hard work, natural disaster and cultural barriers, they make it work. One of my favorite sentences: "No single act prevents an individual from achieving success; inequality wounds and scars bringing death and depression from a thousand cuts."

[Meghan · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5

so much of my life and reading diet is mother / daughter dynamics so to read about a son learning from and ultimately caring for his father was really touching and different (and gives me an appreciation for my own father)

i also don’t know anything about farming so this was educational. i think the language was accessible and almost poetic ; at times repetitive but honestly this would not have been an issue had i digested the book chapter by chapter day by day

[Janeen Rawson · Rating 4 out of 5]

like his other books - meant to be savored slowly.

[Katy Lovejoy · Rating 4 out of 5]

I wish farming was more realistic nowadays

[Anne · Rating 4 out of 5]

My husband Jake jokes that if you want to start a successful restaurant in the bay area, all you have to do is work for Chez Panisse for a day, and then bill yourself out as a former employee. People will come running on the assumption that all your food will be fresh, organic, and innovative. So, David Masumoto did a good thing having the introduction to his book about peach farming written by someone who treasured the experience of eating Masumoto's family fruit at Alice Waters's restaurant. With this set-up, I was instantly drawn into the world of Central Valley farming, and excited to learn more about the peach growing process, as well as about Masumoto's life as the son of sansei Japanese-Americans who had lived through the horrors of the World War II internment camps. Wisdom of the Last Farmer is a collection of articles and essays Masumoto previously published about his life on his family farm (www.masumoto.com), and in particular about his relationship with his father and his hopes for passing the family farm along to his own two children. Because of this, there is a bit of repetition - as characters are introduced and re-introduced in different chapters, and some stories and themes are recycled. Masumoto provides an interesting perspective on the aging culture of farming, and what this means for the future of our fruit and vegetable industries. But, mostly what I enjoyed about this book was Masumoto's reflections on family - on tradition and obligation, on why we take care of the people we love, and why we need to tell the stories of our lives. I wanted to love this book - not just because Masumoto's peaches are served at Chez Panisse - but because he stands for so much, not the least of which is incredible success in the wake of racial prejudice and financial difficulty. I was not blown away by the presentation of the stories, but I was inspired by his anecdotes. Masumoto has written a number of other books about his life, Heirlooms, Letters to the Valley, Four Seasons in Five Senses, Harvest Son, and Epitaph for a Peach. While I won't rush out to request these from the library, Masumoto is someone I am interested in learning more about - and I look forward to buying and ordering his fruit from Berkeley Bowl, my local farmer's market, and neighborhood restaurants in the upcoming peach season.

[Becky · Rating 2 out of 5]

Read this book for a book club, and I never would have finished it if not for the book club pressure.

It's a memoir of a peach farmer in the southern Central Valley in California. He describes a few interesting things about fruit farmers' vulnerability to weather and about customers' desire for red fruit, even when it doesn't taste as good as the heirloom yellow varieties.

But overall: cliche. I've read a lot about farming, and I think that maybe I've reached my limit? Everyone loves their own farm, of course, but I think that it's hard to describe on a page why your farm is so great. To me, it just sounds like, blah blah trees glistening with dew in the morning, tractors in the fields at dusk, the smell of freshly turned earth, yeah, I've read this before.

Actually, this book turned me off from the foreword, which was by a chef. The chef talks about going to Chez Panisse, where the entire dessert for the evening was one of this guy's peaches. Just a peach on a plate. That was supposed to convey that the peaches are really good, but I was vicariously pissed off for all the diners that evening. You pay $100 a plate for a meal at Chez Panisse! And it's a fixed menu, so it's not like they had a choice about the peach. I'm sure it was tasty, but dang! A nice organic heirloom peach will cost you a dollar or two at the farmer's market! That's a perfectly nice dessert for a meal at home, but if I've saved my quarters for a meal at the iconic CP, I need more.

[Susy · Rating 4 out of 5]

I love the writings of David Mas Masumoto; he has the most articulate & lyrical sense of place about his family farm set smack dab in the middle of California's Central Valley. This is the most somber of his memoirs to date simply because it deals with the aging and medical setbacks of his father and his inability to continue doing the only thing he knows in life. Clearly their bond which was cemented by their farming partnership is strong and needs little in the way of words to convey their mutual respect & love. Reading about the latter years of his father's life combined with the daily demands of farming brought me closer to my husband and the stories he's shared about the love & respect he has for his Dad. Farming is such a risky career path; it seems like most of it involves brute strength and a willingness to work long hours. But I now realize that there is a religion & harmony that comes from the daily ritual of being close to the dirt and the crops that come from it. I now understand why my husband was thrilled to have a chance at a second career as a farmer. It's good therapy and great medicine - not to mention hard work.

[Lisa Kelsey · Rating 3 out of 5]

Interesting to read this just after having read "Snow Falling on Cedars." The Masumotos grew peaches and grapes instead of strawberries, they were in California instead of Washington, and were interned at Gila instead of Manzanar, but their experiences were very similar to the fictional account in Guterson's novel. It's hard to believe what Japanese Americans went through during World War II. While his family was imprisoned and their property was confiscated, Masumoto's uncle was drafted and killed in the war. There was a memorial service for him at the internment camp--the cruelty of that is just mind-blowning.

I haven't read Masumoto's other books but this one, while thoughtful and beautifully written, made me very sad. The author clearly means to celebrate and honor his father, but the life of a farmer as he describes it seems more often grueling than rewarding. He does express hope for the future but it is more than a little tinged with what seems like a bracing for disappointment. That said, I think it's worth a read, especially if your are from California, since Masumoto honors a story here that is not told enough.

[Snow Ford · Rating 4 out of 5]

on the one hand, this book could be viewed as "mean things to do to a 70 yr old stroke victim". Mr. Masumoto has his dad learn to drive a tractor and try to weld after a major stroke. On the one hand this may seem cruel, on the other, this is a man who knows his father, and is in tune with the things that make his father happy, even post stroke. Writing about three generation of farmers, this book is a beautiful testament to the care and stewardship David Mas Masumoto and his family have put into the land, farming in the Central Valley of California. This is no Monsanto, this farm is dedicated to heritage produce that will not necessarily conform to the USDA chip test for harvest. If you are interested in the motives behind farming outside the box, or about living with a parent who survives a major event, this book will draw you in.

[Karen Jett · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book was very good. I read it with my husband who is an organic farmer and it touched both of us.

I was able to relate because my father has had numerous strokes and I know the pain of adjusting to different limitations after each stroke like the author did with his father. It made me teary in places.

My husband realized that the rigors of farming that he experiences are normal and that other farmers, even fruit farmers (he grows vegetables), face similar challenges like long hours, pests, and time alone.

We both enjoyed reading this book. The author's ability to write lyrically was definitely a plus.

[Judy Gehman · Rating 4 out of 5]

I really enjoyed this book. Eloquently written, it is the story of growing heirloom peaches, organically in the Central Valley of California. It is autobiographical and philosophical. He muses about his grandparents, first generation Japanese in America. His father was in an internment camp during WWII and then drafted to serve in the US Army. After the war he bought the farm and nurtured it. Masumoto too, is drawn to the land and ends up coming back home after college and farming with his father, but wanting to farm organically before organic in in vogue A story about farming, heritage, love of the land, good tasting fruit and more.

[Liz Murray · Rating 4 out of 5]

I really enjoyed reading about David's experiences as a farmer and hearing his perspective on issues that go beyond the peach trees. He has an easy writing style that conveys his passion for farming; his insights are always welcome and never cliche. I'd imagine that it's very rare that working farmers write at the same time so that makes also makes this book special. An Early Childhood class I'm taking on Narrative Inquiry and Memoir required reading this book and I'm really glad it did. It's always refreshing to move beyond more closely focused education fare. This book is a gulp of fresh air.

[Anna · Rating 5 out of 5]

What I liked about the book is that it is the perfect balance of universal and unique. A unique experience: Being Japanese-American and a farmer. A universal context: Age catching up to a beloved parent. Masumoto does an exquisite job of exposing himself without throwing a pity party. At the heart of the book is the writer's vulnerability. Along the way, he weaves in provoking thoughts, reflections, insight, and information. This isn't a book that made me angry about the state of the world. This is a book that gives hope and quiet strength to continue making the world a better place.

[James · Rating 4 out of 5]

Third generation Japanese American farmer David Mas Masumoto writes this beautiful memoir of life on an organic peach and raisin farm with his family, in the wake of his father's stroke. Masumoto's father farmed before him and for years, farmed with him as he took the reigns on the farm. But after his stroke, David had to mentor his father on the farm, set limits and reteach him how to farm. Along the way there are stirring reflections on farming, mortality and life's fragility (in both its human and botanical forms). Great read!

[Stacy Ho · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book offers an interesting view from the perspective of a Japanese-American organic heirloom peach farmer in California's Central Valley, from constantly being challenged to meet the physical demands of farming (including near-death experiences), to using old and creative methods to make repairs, to living at the mercy of unpredictable rains and other weather, to dealing with the economic realities of being a small-scale farmer, to continuing family traditions....all while managing his father's declining health.

[Marleen · Rating 4 out of 5]

David Masumoto is a third generation farmer who's working his grandparents peach and grape fields. After college, unlike his older brother, he joins is father on the farm. He spnds many hours laboring in the hot sun working the fields with his father. David's father suffers several strokes and can no longer work the land like he once had. Farming is changing and prized fruit is no longer judged by flavor but by shelf life and appearance. Can the independent farmer survive in a fast food world? The history of farming in America is woven in with the story of David's family farm.

[Stacey · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a beautiful tale of one farm, and the people that have loved it. Mas Masumoto's writing is elegant as he shares with you the story of his family. Each chapter is deeply touching as you travel with him through happy times, and sad times. Learning about our food and how we have industrialized it. It is heartwarming to know that there are still small farmers out there, and they are putting their love and time into our food so that we have healthy items to eat still!

[Ellen · Rating 3 out of 5]

Good insight into the work of farming and the rise of supermarket produce (produce which can be picked unripe, shipped long distances and still look good). Sad description of loss of heirloom varieties of fruit, but hope for revival of tree ripened local produce.
Masumoto a bit long winded and overly introspective, but just skim those parts.

[Michelle · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Good work, importnat work, necessary work, is not always measurable by profits." This quote sums up the life of the organic farmer. This bio looks at the life of the author and I can tell you that I will not complain about the price of organic fruit the next time I'm at the store.

[Kristen-Marie Freeman · Rating 2 out of 5]

I don't usually find non-fiction very interesting, but I liked this work okay. It's a combination of a collection of essays about organic farming and a memoir. Reminds me that I must look into a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) box...

[Anne Van · Rating 5 out of 5]

I loved this book! Beautiful writing.... a riveting and soulful account of working his family farm in the California valley, and a moving tribute to his father. I'll think of the writer next summer when I bite into a perfect peach (if I can find, that is).