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The worm forgives the plough
Page edges tanned. Orders received by 3pm Sent from the UK that weekday.
363 pages, Paperback
First published February 28, 1975
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John Stewart Collis
23 books6 followersJohn Stewart Collis (1900–1984), author best known for The Worm Forgives The Plough his account of his experiences working on farms during the Second World War.
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December 15, 2018 Modern life is a labyrinth in which most men are lost (p.242)
The author finds his way volunteering for agricultural work during WWII, writes about his experiences, connection to agricultural and rural work including learning to plough, building hay ricks and forestry work. Put like that the book sounds fine and no doubt similar wording seduced me into reading it. What amused me is that he was singing the swansong for the way of rural life which had replaced the rural way of life whose passing Thomas Hardy had mourned. There is something pleasing in how difficult he finds it to learn the work, how recalcitrant machines and beasts both. He acknowledges that it does take a world war for him to find happiness working in woodland with an axe and bill hook, and some readers may then feel that this can hardly be a universal prescription for increasing the degree of good cheer among people. The author himself was way higher in social class than the people he was among, a Guards Officer in the First World war, since then he had set to educating himself in the non-military sides to life, his decision to be an agricultural volunteer flowing from that, his politics might be termed progressive in a broad sense.
The book recounts his experiences on a farm specialising in fruit, then another further west and finally still yet further west in a patch of woodland, but all in the south. The work is generally hard, the days are very long. Before he reaches the woodland at times he notices the Battle of Britain taking place over head. But for the most part we learn nothing of how he got involved or why he moved from one farm to another, there are some occasional bursts of topolect, but not much save the ubiquitous use of 'bugger' as noun, adjective and verb, in the spirit of those times that actual word was not fit for print and had to be represented by the letter 'b' on it's own with a quick reference to the definition given in Dr. Johnson's dictionary to ensure that all readers could grasp his meaning. Still in those ancient times even the married adults had barely seen a naked person - the game I suppose not being considered worth the candle and so there is much horror, shock, and confusion when three land girls strip off and splash about in a pool of cool water, the implication is that country life is rich in simple pleasures that the country people aren't educated to want , there is scarcely less outrage when other land girls roll up their trouser legs and expose their bare naked shins to the sun while working in the field. For the author then even taking off a hat is a big deal. He has a dog with him but barely mentions it.
There is a lot about working with machines - every man must be a mechanic, since these devices needed tender treatment. Occasionally he gets to work with horses too. Some horses need to be bribed with oats to get into harness and drag the plough, Collis relates how one man promised but never gave the oats for several days until the horse, thoroughly offended at the breach of Nature's social Union gave the man a good kicking.
I was glad to finish this book as I failed to connect with the author. Though the second time reading, I felt that I almost liked the woodland section.
So what put me off. Well there are the author's prejudices against town labourers , his comments about money seem to be off too, as though he perceived the agricultural labourers as living in some kind of financial golden age. Indirectly as a reader though you get the feeling of how precarious the agrarian economy was, this was a period before agricultural subsidies and while council housing in rural areas was still a relative rarity. It was also a slog to read.
I struggle terribly with reading this book, it is like maybe a foretaste of death. I am quickly tired by the prose and bounce away from the book. Perhaps all the talking of pruning, dipping sheep and harnessing horses fires up the ancestral brain and renders me unfit to read. I wonder at the introduction by Bob Macfarlane who buzzes with love for this book and Collis' writing while I feel oddly queasy noticing I paid eight pounds and nine and ninety pence for it new, more than an hour's work in many of my jobs, hours spent in no less a tedious a manner. Yet he can be witty, and interesting, I don't even disagree with him on the subject of physical labour or the joys of being out in the sun. Still I suffer my way through this book daydreaming of other books to read.
I wondered at his description of how the plum trees had to have the fruit thinned off them since my mother has an apple-tree grown from seed, she's only a young thing shorter than me yet she gave a good eight apples this year, but shed by herself many little ones that she could not have carried to fruition. But maybe apple trees are simply cleverer than plums. I did like what he said about axes, my grandmother had a handsome axe, I would have taken it as an inheritance, for it looked as though it had come directly from the Viking age, but for the marked tendency for the head to fly backwards off the haft whenever I gave something a good chop. Still this probably explains why my ancestors were not warlike. Collis is appreciative of a good tool of which he comes across precisely two, a heavy hoe with a very sharp blade and a really good bill hook.
The book is very broadly speaking ecological in content, his reflections on how chalk was built up during a period of geological antiquity when southern England was under the sea seem familiar and unoriginal. Overall the book felt like a lighter, less extreme version of Walden.
The author finds his way volunteering for agricultural work during WWII, writes about his experiences, connection to agricultural and rural work including learning to plough, building hay ricks and forestry work. Put like that the book sounds fine and no doubt similar wording seduced me into reading it. What amused me is that he was singing the swansong for the way of rural life which had replaced the rural way of life whose passing Thomas Hardy had mourned. There is something pleasing in how difficult he finds it to learn the work, how recalcitrant machines and beasts both. He acknowledges that it does take a world war for him to find happiness working in woodland with an axe and bill hook, and some readers may then feel that this can hardly be a universal prescription for increasing the degree of good cheer among people. The author himself was way higher in social class than the people he was among, a Guards Officer in the First World war, since then he had set to educating himself in the non-military sides to life, his decision to be an agricultural volunteer flowing from that, his politics might be termed progressive in a broad sense.
The book recounts his experiences on a farm specialising in fruit, then another further west and finally still yet further west in a patch of woodland, but all in the south. The work is generally hard, the days are very long. Before he reaches the woodland at times he notices the Battle of Britain taking place over head. But for the most part we learn nothing of how he got involved or why he moved from one farm to another, there are some occasional bursts of topolect, but not much save the ubiquitous use of 'bugger' as noun, adjective and verb, in the spirit of those times that actual word was not fit for print and had to be represented by the letter 'b' on it's own with a quick reference to the definition given in Dr. Johnson's dictionary to ensure that all readers could grasp his meaning. Still in those ancient times even the married adults had barely seen a naked person - the game I suppose not being considered worth the candle and so there is much horror, shock, and confusion when three land girls strip off and splash about in a pool of cool water, the implication is that country life is rich in simple pleasures that the country people aren't educated to want , there is scarcely less outrage when other land girls roll up their trouser legs and expose their bare naked shins to the sun while working in the field. For the author then even taking off a hat is a big deal. He has a dog with him but barely mentions it.
There is a lot about working with machines - every man must be a mechanic, since these devices needed tender treatment. Occasionally he gets to work with horses too. Some horses need to be bribed with oats to get into harness and drag the plough, Collis relates how one man promised but never gave the oats for several days until the horse, thoroughly offended at the breach of Nature's social Union gave the man a good kicking.
I was glad to finish this book as I failed to connect with the author. Though the second time reading, I felt that I almost liked the woodland section.
So what put me off. Well there are the author's prejudices against town labourers , his comments about money seem to be off too, as though he perceived the agricultural labourers as living in some kind of financial golden age. Indirectly as a reader though you get the feeling of how precarious the agrarian economy was, this was a period before agricultural subsidies and while council housing in rural areas was still a relative rarity. It was also a slog to read.
I struggle terribly with reading this book, it is like maybe a foretaste of death. I am quickly tired by the prose and bounce away from the book. Perhaps all the talking of pruning, dipping sheep and harnessing horses fires up the ancestral brain and renders me unfit to read. I wonder at the introduction by Bob Macfarlane who buzzes with love for this book and Collis' writing while I feel oddly queasy noticing I paid eight pounds and nine and ninety pence for it new, more than an hour's work in many of my jobs, hours spent in no less a tedious a manner. Yet he can be witty, and interesting, I don't even disagree with him on the subject of physical labour or the joys of being out in the sun. Still I suffer my way through this book daydreaming of other books to read.
I wondered at his description of how the plum trees had to have the fruit thinned off them since my mother has an apple-tree grown from seed, she's only a young thing shorter than me yet she gave a good eight apples this year, but shed by herself many little ones that she could not have carried to fruition. But maybe apple trees are simply cleverer than plums. I did like what he said about axes, my grandmother had a handsome axe, I would have taken it as an inheritance, for it looked as though it had come directly from the Viking age, but for the marked tendency for the head to fly backwards off the haft whenever I gave something a good chop. Still this probably explains why my ancestors were not warlike. Collis is appreciative of a good tool of which he comes across precisely two, a heavy hoe with a very sharp blade and a really good bill hook.
The book is very broadly speaking ecological in content, his reflections on how chalk was built up during a period of geological antiquity when southern England was under the sea seem familiar and unoriginal. Overall the book felt like a lighter, less extreme version of Walden.
May 14, 2017
Introduction
Preface
--While Following the Plough
Preface
--Down to Earth
Preface
--While Following the Plough
Preface
--Down to Earth
August 6, 2013
I've always believed that you can never choose all the books you read. Sometimes, perhaps all the time, the books will choose you.
This book did.
I would never have read it. Simple as that. My diet of literary fiction, popular science, travelogues and literary non-fiction has no use for natural history. The last similar book I read was something by Bill Bryson, which should tell you everything you need to know.
I was picking up books by the dozen in a 70% off sale at a bookstore here in Delhi when I stumbled on to this. I was meaning to buy one of these vintage editions and that was what first took my fancy. And then I read what the book was about.
It is a delightful book. I have no other word to describe it. Delightful, in every sense of that word. I enjoyed each word, each sentence, each passage. I drank it down like the beer Collis drinks after a hard day on the field at the village pub. And like the best beer, it left me happy, contented and sated.
John Stewart Collis was an English academic, and the book, written in 1940, is written in the careful literary prose of that era. It is about his experiences as a farm hand, labourer and woodman during the British war effort of World War 2. But what it really is is a meditation on the English countryside, the British farmer, nature, plants, trees and everything that is beautiful and heavenly upon this planet.
I was mesmerized by the language most. It isn't a very easy read; the book is certainly not for the casual reader who cares not about the written word. In his accounts of life and thoughts on the farm, Collis quotes every English poet and playwright imaginable. From Blake to Wordsworth to Shakespeare to Cobbett to Thoreau, he brings alive icons of a generation past, all talking about nature and the beauty of work on the land. As I said, delightful is the only word I can use.
Collis loved the land and his work, and respected the farmer's work that gives us all food to eat, every single day of our lives. He celebrates the work and the people in memorable passages, but his greatest gift to the reader is his vision - a vision in which he sees nature, God, faith and work all in the same sense. He opens the reader's eyes to what the world really is about, and opened my own to the futility of the life we live in our towns and cities - a life unblessed by the glories of nature, a life that knows not or chooses to ignore the passing of seasons, a life that does not understand the beauty of God's gift on Earth.
I finished the book today on the balcony of my first floor flat in Delhi, and looked at the Metro Rail being built above me, the sounds of the early morning being workers gathering up tools and getting ready to start work.
Would their work give them the same satisfaction that Collis was able to find when he worked on the land, ploughing, hoeing, weeding, planting, harvesting? What do they think about it? What pleasure do they find in it? Does one of them, at least one of them, miss his village and his ancestor's farm, like I do?
Find this book. Read it.
This book did.
I would never have read it. Simple as that. My diet of literary fiction, popular science, travelogues and literary non-fiction has no use for natural history. The last similar book I read was something by Bill Bryson, which should tell you everything you need to know.
I was picking up books by the dozen in a 70% off sale at a bookstore here in Delhi when I stumbled on to this. I was meaning to buy one of these vintage editions and that was what first took my fancy. And then I read what the book was about.
It is a delightful book. I have no other word to describe it. Delightful, in every sense of that word. I enjoyed each word, each sentence, each passage. I drank it down like the beer Collis drinks after a hard day on the field at the village pub. And like the best beer, it left me happy, contented and sated.
John Stewart Collis was an English academic, and the book, written in 1940, is written in the careful literary prose of that era. It is about his experiences as a farm hand, labourer and woodman during the British war effort of World War 2. But what it really is is a meditation on the English countryside, the British farmer, nature, plants, trees and everything that is beautiful and heavenly upon this planet.
I was mesmerized by the language most. It isn't a very easy read; the book is certainly not for the casual reader who cares not about the written word. In his accounts of life and thoughts on the farm, Collis quotes every English poet and playwright imaginable. From Blake to Wordsworth to Shakespeare to Cobbett to Thoreau, he brings alive icons of a generation past, all talking about nature and the beauty of work on the land. As I said, delightful is the only word I can use.
Collis loved the land and his work, and respected the farmer's work that gives us all food to eat, every single day of our lives. He celebrates the work and the people in memorable passages, but his greatest gift to the reader is his vision - a vision in which he sees nature, God, faith and work all in the same sense. He opens the reader's eyes to what the world really is about, and opened my own to the futility of the life we live in our towns and cities - a life unblessed by the glories of nature, a life that knows not or chooses to ignore the passing of seasons, a life that does not understand the beauty of God's gift on Earth.
I finished the book today on the balcony of my first floor flat in Delhi, and looked at the Metro Rail being built above me, the sounds of the early morning being workers gathering up tools and getting ready to start work.
Would their work give them the same satisfaction that Collis was able to find when he worked on the land, ploughing, hoeing, weeding, planting, harvesting? What do they think about it? What pleasure do they find in it? Does one of them, at least one of them, miss his village and his ancestor's farm, like I do?
Find this book. Read it.
Read
December 21, 20232023 - ‘70’s Immersion Reading Challenge
The Worm Forgives the Plough by John Stewart Collis (1973 1st Edition), linen hardcover, 294 pages.
NOTE: The Worm Forgives the Plough, published in 1973, is actually two works put together and originally published in the 1940’s: 1) While Following the Plough (1946) and 2) Down to Earth (1947).
I began reading this book on September 11th, just four days before my husband, Ben, passed in an auto accident on September 15th, and finished it three months later. It is unfair for me to give any star ratings for this book as my brain just hasn’t been able to focus or concentrate on much of anything. I eventually forced my way to begin reading again. At first, only a few sentences at a time was all I could muster, then I’d set the book down. I normally would appreciate this type of genre, and I truly did connect with a lot of the author’s insights, so I’m not sure if I really felt it slow or if I just had too much on my mind. This book deserves a re-read later in time when I have my life back together.
The first book is a memoir of what it was like being a field laborer, farming at the height of the war (WWII) back in the 1940’s, in Britain, with a lot of life's philosophy and observations intermingled into his stories. The field of agriculture was in the beginnings of transitioning from man laborers to farm machines. Collis served his time fighting, but for his second go-round, he opted out and chose to be enrolled in the “Land Army”, mostly women in Britain who took over farming jobs while the men left and fought during WWII. But, there evidently were a lot of men too. Collis worked mostly with other men and loved it. He was a naturalist at heart and every little job issued to him was a learning experience, never a drudgery.
He loved to work hard and challenge himself. When asked of his preference between a tractor or the plough, he said “there was nothing more satisfying than the physical strenuous work of horse plowing. Your feet are on the earth and your hand is on the plough; you are holding the life of mankind and walking through the fields of time.” (p. 203) A man after my own heart!
The second book consists of his observations on a variety of specific things: worms, ants, dunghills, clouds, stones, seeds, the wheel and plough, and his experience and thoughts on trees and the woods. He once thinned a 14-acre wooded area of brush and trees with just an axe and a few other hand tools, which the owner had always referred to as “Collis’ land” because of all the work he had done on it.
Also, I know exactly what he’s talking about when he says: “The sun emerges from the silver margin, the glowing ball comes out and blazes upon us. At this moment I give myself to this experience. I close my eyes, and it is as if a warm velvet glove were laid across my face, an invisible, blanket wrapped around me. We call it heat, but what is that? Am I taken in the arms of God? Everything is transformed, this is holy ground, even I am holy, my heart is purged of sin, I forgive everything, I love all things, I am lifted up; and, in understanding, I passed beyond all theory, all system, resting, utterly content in this blessing, and this sign…” (p. 309-310)
I’m reminded of one particular day at McFaddin Beach in summer of 1985. I was 21 and about 8-1/2 months pregnant with my first child. I was going through a rough, rough time, and in the middle of a divorce, living back with my parents. We had gone to the beach for the day, and as I lay there soaking up the sun, in my bikini, no less, and sunglasses, just watching the clouds drift by, I did feel that exact comfort and warmth envelop me. For that one moment in time, through all the chaos, all my troubles disappeared and I did feel completely loved and in God’s hands.
I’m connected with Collis again when he mentions a quiet like he’s never felt or heard before as he enters into a wood full of pine trees.
P. 322-23: “ For a more deadly silence go to a Pinewood… There was not a speck of green on this ground. I felt awe in the silence. No bird sang, nor wing flapped, nor rabbit scuttled, nor stick cracked. I was enclosed and submerged in a silence like a substance.”
Collis’ description of complete silence compared to my long description the day I truly saw an angel in the sky orchestrating hundreds of seagulls in Maine while I was outside making a flower bed:
“It was a beautiful day. I was working hard, hands in the dirt, when suddenly the world around me became eerily still and quiet. It sure got my attention. I stopped working, looked up and around. I had never heard such a quiet in all my life. Not a single bird, no breeze, no road noise, absolutely NOTHING. It was as if someone had suddenly encapsulated me in a bubble or something.” Then I began to hear the seagulls and looked up to see the angel cloud directing them.
I love Collis’ description of what it feels like to be in the woods, or in my case, on a beautiful hike, anything in nature, or even just getting my hands and feet in the dirt gardening, which is so true and see it is something I will have to get back into to survive this period in my life (p. 358): “… having turned off from your road and entered the wood, you have really gone through a gate which now is closed behind you, and your ordinary world is shut out with all its noise and sorrow and care.”
Lastly, I am pondering the irony in this title that seems to be an underlying message for my life now: “The Worm Forgives the Plough”. The plough does disrupt and destroy the worm's home and underground food web. The worm has to start over and rebuild and familiarize itself to what it once knew…and it does. I see now I have to forgive Ben for leaving me so soon. Just like the worm, he disrupted my life, turned it over, upside down, and every which way. And just like the worm, I’m going to have to rebuild my life. Not just live day-to-day getting by, but actually rebuild it. After 36 years of togetherness, what now? This next year will be like opening a book to read without reading the back cover. I have no idea what's instore for me from this day on.
John Stewart Collis (6 Feb 1900, Dublin, Ireland - 2 Mar 1984 (aged 84))
The Worm Forgives the Plough by John Stewart Collis (1973 1st Edition), linen hardcover, 294 pages.
NOTE: The Worm Forgives the Plough, published in 1973, is actually two works put together and originally published in the 1940’s: 1) While Following the Plough (1946) and 2) Down to Earth (1947).
I began reading this book on September 11th, just four days before my husband, Ben, passed in an auto accident on September 15th, and finished it three months later. It is unfair for me to give any star ratings for this book as my brain just hasn’t been able to focus or concentrate on much of anything. I eventually forced my way to begin reading again. At first, only a few sentences at a time was all I could muster, then I’d set the book down. I normally would appreciate this type of genre, and I truly did connect with a lot of the author’s insights, so I’m not sure if I really felt it slow or if I just had too much on my mind. This book deserves a re-read later in time when I have my life back together.
The first book is a memoir of what it was like being a field laborer, farming at the height of the war (WWII) back in the 1940’s, in Britain, with a lot of life's philosophy and observations intermingled into his stories. The field of agriculture was in the beginnings of transitioning from man laborers to farm machines. Collis served his time fighting, but for his second go-round, he opted out and chose to be enrolled in the “Land Army”, mostly women in Britain who took over farming jobs while the men left and fought during WWII. But, there evidently were a lot of men too. Collis worked mostly with other men and loved it. He was a naturalist at heart and every little job issued to him was a learning experience, never a drudgery.
He loved to work hard and challenge himself. When asked of his preference between a tractor or the plough, he said “there was nothing more satisfying than the physical strenuous work of horse plowing. Your feet are on the earth and your hand is on the plough; you are holding the life of mankind and walking through the fields of time.” (p. 203) A man after my own heart!
The second book consists of his observations on a variety of specific things: worms, ants, dunghills, clouds, stones, seeds, the wheel and plough, and his experience and thoughts on trees and the woods. He once thinned a 14-acre wooded area of brush and trees with just an axe and a few other hand tools, which the owner had always referred to as “Collis’ land” because of all the work he had done on it.
Also, I know exactly what he’s talking about when he says: “The sun emerges from the silver margin, the glowing ball comes out and blazes upon us. At this moment I give myself to this experience. I close my eyes, and it is as if a warm velvet glove were laid across my face, an invisible, blanket wrapped around me. We call it heat, but what is that? Am I taken in the arms of God? Everything is transformed, this is holy ground, even I am holy, my heart is purged of sin, I forgive everything, I love all things, I am lifted up; and, in understanding, I passed beyond all theory, all system, resting, utterly content in this blessing, and this sign…” (p. 309-310)
I’m reminded of one particular day at McFaddin Beach in summer of 1985. I was 21 and about 8-1/2 months pregnant with my first child. I was going through a rough, rough time, and in the middle of a divorce, living back with my parents. We had gone to the beach for the day, and as I lay there soaking up the sun, in my bikini, no less, and sunglasses, just watching the clouds drift by, I did feel that exact comfort and warmth envelop me. For that one moment in time, through all the chaos, all my troubles disappeared and I did feel completely loved and in God’s hands.
I’m connected with Collis again when he mentions a quiet like he’s never felt or heard before as he enters into a wood full of pine trees.
P. 322-23: “ For a more deadly silence go to a Pinewood… There was not a speck of green on this ground. I felt awe in the silence. No bird sang, nor wing flapped, nor rabbit scuttled, nor stick cracked. I was enclosed and submerged in a silence like a substance.”
Collis’ description of complete silence compared to my long description the day I truly saw an angel in the sky orchestrating hundreds of seagulls in Maine while I was outside making a flower bed:
“It was a beautiful day. I was working hard, hands in the dirt, when suddenly the world around me became eerily still and quiet. It sure got my attention. I stopped working, looked up and around. I had never heard such a quiet in all my life. Not a single bird, no breeze, no road noise, absolutely NOTHING. It was as if someone had suddenly encapsulated me in a bubble or something.” Then I began to hear the seagulls and looked up to see the angel cloud directing them.
I love Collis’ description of what it feels like to be in the woods, or in my case, on a beautiful hike, anything in nature, or even just getting my hands and feet in the dirt gardening, which is so true and see it is something I will have to get back into to survive this period in my life (p. 358): “… having turned off from your road and entered the wood, you have really gone through a gate which now is closed behind you, and your ordinary world is shut out with all its noise and sorrow and care.”
Lastly, I am pondering the irony in this title that seems to be an underlying message for my life now: “The Worm Forgives the Plough”. The plough does disrupt and destroy the worm's home and underground food web. The worm has to start over and rebuild and familiarize itself to what it once knew…and it does. I see now I have to forgive Ben for leaving me so soon. Just like the worm, he disrupted my life, turned it over, upside down, and every which way. And just like the worm, I’m going to have to rebuild my life. Not just live day-to-day getting by, but actually rebuild it. After 36 years of togetherness, what now? This next year will be like opening a book to read without reading the back cover. I have no idea what's instore for me from this day on.
John Stewart Collis (6 Feb 1900, Dublin, Ireland - 2 Mar 1984 (aged 84))
June 9, 2020
A rural memoir par excellence. Collis writes so beautifully - the next best thing to a Time Machine.
I can do no better than to quote him.
"I pulled myself together and went out into the pouring darkness and caught the bus and then took my bicycle for the final part of the journey. I was soon passing our farmyard which ajoined the road. There is was - deserted, silent, a pocket of gloom, a nonenity of a place, something to pass by. Was it really possible, I asked myself, that this slushy yard, so humble, so lacking in all the props and appointments of Power, was yet the foundation of society? Yet so it was. Upon this fabric rested, upon this was erected all that glittered and all that shone; and I knew that the lighted palace from which I had come where the Figures paced on the polished floor, and the Magicians emerged with food from behind the screens, could not otherwise exist at all. I got off my bicycle and gazed into the farmyard - at the stable door, the pile of manure, the muddy pool, the old binder in the corner, the oil-cans and sacks, the three wagons and the two carts under the shelter. I peered at these things through the dreary dank of the dripping darkness, with some intensity, as if aware that here only in this place, and in such guise, could I find the roots of grandeur and the keys of life."
And more, because he's wonderful.
" Since becoming submerged in the land I had frequently reflected upon how great is the difference between what the man on the road sees and the man in the field experiences. From the road, how delightful the sowing of that hundred-acre stretch of land appears; how calm, how leisurely...Enter the field, draw close. The boss is in a state of great anxiety owing to the threat of rain, the horse won't stand still without being yelled at, the man bending over the sack is in difficulties about getting the grain into too small a bucket and is late in having the stuff ready to feed the approaching tractors, the driver in front being in a great hurry because the driver behind is catching him up - the operations proceed against amidst flurry, speed, noise, anxiety. From the road, how easy and pleasant it looks..."
"Yet here we must pause. The man on the road does not see the immediate reality: he does see something which they in the field do not see, he knows something they do not know. He sees the Whole. He may see only enough to call it picturesque.The artist is the man on the road with vision...His task is to reveal the whole to those who are submerged in the part, to unveil the harmony which is really on earth, and thus lessen the burden of life."
I can do no better than to quote him.
"I pulled myself together and went out into the pouring darkness and caught the bus and then took my bicycle for the final part of the journey. I was soon passing our farmyard which ajoined the road. There is was - deserted, silent, a pocket of gloom, a nonenity of a place, something to pass by. Was it really possible, I asked myself, that this slushy yard, so humble, so lacking in all the props and appointments of Power, was yet the foundation of society? Yet so it was. Upon this fabric rested, upon this was erected all that glittered and all that shone; and I knew that the lighted palace from which I had come where the Figures paced on the polished floor, and the Magicians emerged with food from behind the screens, could not otherwise exist at all. I got off my bicycle and gazed into the farmyard - at the stable door, the pile of manure, the muddy pool, the old binder in the corner, the oil-cans and sacks, the three wagons and the two carts under the shelter. I peered at these things through the dreary dank of the dripping darkness, with some intensity, as if aware that here only in this place, and in such guise, could I find the roots of grandeur and the keys of life."
And more, because he's wonderful.
" Since becoming submerged in the land I had frequently reflected upon how great is the difference between what the man on the road sees and the man in the field experiences. From the road, how delightful the sowing of that hundred-acre stretch of land appears; how calm, how leisurely...Enter the field, draw close. The boss is in a state of great anxiety owing to the threat of rain, the horse won't stand still without being yelled at, the man bending over the sack is in difficulties about getting the grain into too small a bucket and is late in having the stuff ready to feed the approaching tractors, the driver in front being in a great hurry because the driver behind is catching him up - the operations proceed against amidst flurry, speed, noise, anxiety. From the road, how easy and pleasant it looks..."
"Yet here we must pause. The man on the road does not see the immediate reality: he does see something which they in the field do not see, he knows something they do not know. He sees the Whole. He may see only enough to call it picturesque.The artist is the man on the road with vision...His task is to reveal the whole to those who are submerged in the part, to unveil the harmony which is really on earth, and thus lessen the burden of life."
May 12, 2017
A fascinating writing about the English traditional agricultural practice at the arrival of mechanization with its machines and fertilizers ( struggle, acceptance, change)
The book is divided into easy to read short sections that beautifully invites us to think about the toughness of working with nature.
" ...but especially the apple, it seems, are open to the attack of hosts of enemies. First to the fungi: a fungus being a plant which does not prepare its own food but feeds on other plants. ...it has to be protected against the leaf Blight...Bitter Rut, Black Rut, and the Brown Rut which devour their way into the fruit;
against Rust which yellows the leaves and eats into the growing apple;
against Scab which forms dark circular spots on the fruit and leaves....
against the Aphis, an insect which, gathering in massed battalions, sucks the juices from the leaf and blossom;
against the Bud Moth which chooses the tree as good hatching ground in the crevices of the twigs so that the larvae can feed upon the foliage;
against the Canker Worm, a caterpillar which, after feeding upon the tree, lowers itself to the ground by means of its self produced thread,
and against seven other kinds of moth and worm...
....
In the agricultural world, I soon discovered, all sorts of problems must be solved on the spot, the difficulty must be got round somehow, there is no question of getting someone from outside to do it."
The book is divided into easy to read short sections that beautifully invites us to think about the toughness of working with nature.
" ...but especially the apple, it seems, are open to the attack of hosts of enemies. First to the fungi: a fungus being a plant which does not prepare its own food but feeds on other plants. ...it has to be protected against the leaf Blight...Bitter Rut, Black Rut, and the Brown Rut which devour their way into the fruit;
against Rust which yellows the leaves and eats into the growing apple;
against Scab which forms dark circular spots on the fruit and leaves....
against the Aphis, an insect which, gathering in massed battalions, sucks the juices from the leaf and blossom;
against the Bud Moth which chooses the tree as good hatching ground in the crevices of the twigs so that the larvae can feed upon the foliage;
against the Canker Worm, a caterpillar which, after feeding upon the tree, lowers itself to the ground by means of its self produced thread,
and against seven other kinds of moth and worm...
....
In the agricultural world, I soon discovered, all sorts of problems must be solved on the spot, the difficulty must be got round somehow, there is no question of getting someone from outside to do it."
August 12, 2015
Re-read after many years. Still has massive charm as an outsider gets closer to being a farm labourer, bringing his intelligence and humility with him.
January 12, 2012
This book has been at the back of my mind for many years. Around the time I moved to Coventry (and acquired my first garden), so did the Henry Doubleday Research Association, later to become Garden Organic. In all honesty, a considerable part of the visiting attraction was tea and cake in the café, where we would often be joined by the founder Lawrence Hills , who told me more than I ever wanted to know about verticillium wilt in tomatoes. However, I read a good deal of his writing too and he mentioned the influence of this book, which has such a wonderful title.
I was reminded of my interest when a new edition was flagged up to me on account of its beautiful cover by a favourite print maker of mine, Angie Lewin.
For a book I always had a hunch would be a 5 star book, I found it surprisingly heavy going at times. This is in part because despite the glorious design of the exterior, the book itself is crammed in densely - to the extent that the last line on a page is often slightly clipped. It is also fair to say that some of the themes have become much more familiar from subsequent books on similar topics. I was helped by a good introduction by Robert Macfarlane.
Collis' family evacuated to Canada in WWII, and Collis chose, instead of an Army post in his 40s, to pursue a long held interest and contribute to the war effort by working on the land - a rather singular species of Land Girl if you like. The book is based around his experiences of working on a number of farms as an agricultural labourer, and as a woodsman. And it is a wonderful book - it describes in minute detail various aspects of agricultural work and the complexities of relationships with his co-workers with his sensory, emotional and philosophical responses to his experiences. Much feeling but little sentimentality - he values machinery every bit as much as the life force in sprouting seeds. He does enjoy the work but he also enjoys a good rest. He conveys beautifully the satisfactions of a job well done. By the time the book was published as one volume, activities like hayricking were already gone, yet the book feels completely in tune with the current zeitgeist. Most of all, he is an absolute master of litotes and has created a very groundedly spiritual but also very funny book.
I was reminded of my interest when a new edition was flagged up to me on account of its beautiful cover by a favourite print maker of mine, Angie Lewin.
For a book I always had a hunch would be a 5 star book, I found it surprisingly heavy going at times. This is in part because despite the glorious design of the exterior, the book itself is crammed in densely - to the extent that the last line on a page is often slightly clipped. It is also fair to say that some of the themes have become much more familiar from subsequent books on similar topics. I was helped by a good introduction by Robert Macfarlane.
Collis' family evacuated to Canada in WWII, and Collis chose, instead of an Army post in his 40s, to pursue a long held interest and contribute to the war effort by working on the land - a rather singular species of Land Girl if you like. The book is based around his experiences of working on a number of farms as an agricultural labourer, and as a woodsman. And it is a wonderful book - it describes in minute detail various aspects of agricultural work and the complexities of relationships with his co-workers with his sensory, emotional and philosophical responses to his experiences. Much feeling but little sentimentality - he values machinery every bit as much as the life force in sprouting seeds. He does enjoy the work but he also enjoys a good rest. He conveys beautifully the satisfactions of a job well done. By the time the book was published as one volume, activities like hayricking were already gone, yet the book feels completely in tune with the current zeitgeist. Most of all, he is an absolute master of litotes and has created a very groundedly spiritual but also very funny book.
July 31, 2018
The story of an academic finding agricultural work during WW2, and observing and adapting to rural life sounds promising, and the cover artwork is beautiful too! But I failed to connect with the author. He didn't tell me any of the things I wanted to know and I didn't finish it.
October 2, 2017
This was a book I'd been meaning to read for along time. Having bought it in the current Vintage edition with an introduction by Robert Macfarlane I discovered that the print was too small and pale to read. This Penguin edition from the seventies has yellowed pages, but print that is (just about) large enough to read comfortably. Having looked forward to the book as something of a modern classic I have to confess to feeling slightly disappointed. Yes, the first part ('While following the plough') does capture a key moment in life on British farms just before the technological revolution of the second half of the twentieth century, and yes, there are moments of brilliant and perceptive description (particularly in the section called 'The Wood'), but there are also long passages of rather antique, ornate (you could even call it purple in places) prose and somewhat tedious popular science. Fortunately, the author takes a patchwork approach to the story he has to tell, and writes in a multiplicity of short chapters or vignettes, so that if the reader starts to flag, there's always another subject of potential interest coming along soon.
June 1, 2019
This is ecological poetry that needs to be widely read so that people have a greater appreciation for what nature is and everything we won't really understand. This will help the evolution to balancing our impact on the Earth contrary to our current actions of blasting insecticides to our farms and in our houses.
As I was reading on my Kindle I couldn't help but record the phenomenal quotes contained in this book. A phenomenal undertaking to be written and to be read.
As I was reading on my Kindle I couldn't help but record the phenomenal quotes contained in this book. A phenomenal undertaking to be written and to be read.
November 26, 2020
Started off quite interesting as a picture of a vanishing way of life, but I ended up getting really rather bored.
The author has an annoying tendency of making sweeping generalisations about any group he wasn't part of (agricultural workers, town workers, women!).
The author has an annoying tendency of making sweeping generalisations about any group he wasn't part of (agricultural workers, town workers, women!).
Read
July 24, 2010One of the most beautiful autobiographies I have ever read.
A dazzling eye for the beauty of nature.
A dazzling eye for the beauty of nature.
March 27, 2016
A truly wonderful read
April 19, 2021
Excellent nature book. I was expecting something more about farming, but the writing well made up for the subject matter.
September 9, 2024
I don't think I've ever read anything quite like this. It's sort of nature writing, but it's more down to earth and practical than that. The author tells about how during some of the years of WWII he went and did agricultural work on local farms in England. He's coming to the work as a writer / academic and is not used to manual labor. But he puts his full effort into it, and starts to learn about the world through this new type of work. He gets to know the rural farm workers, the farm owners and the laborers. He gets to know the seasons and the flow of the days and weeks when working on a farm.
He's writing about his experiences working in the 1940's and Britain is in a major shift from working a farm the very old style way (such as horses and ploughs), to more sophisticated machinery. It's fascinating to see him write about a type of farming that is now long gone. He writes very practically about the hard work, the sweat, the boredom, the wondering when the lunch break will be, etc. However, occasionally as he's talking about all these things, he will go off on a gorgeous tangent about nature, life, wonder, beauty - and it makes you see life in a whole new way. But then he will be back to the day to day grind of working on a farm. It's a nice balance, but can be slow going. It's not fast paced at all (it took me a couple months to finish) but I enjoyed reading a little bit at a time.
The last third of the book takes a slight turn. Instead of talking only about his work on a farm, he instead narrows his focus. He wants to examine the small details of one particular thing. He has individual sections such as "The Potato" , "The Worm", "Contemplation Upon Ants" and "The Mystery of Clouds" where he gets down and examines the small details about how a potato really grows, what do worms do, etc.
And the last part is about "The Wood", where he describes his experiences working in clearing out certain sections of a wood, thinning out certain things so that other trees can grow better. He writes so poetically about working in the woods and what the experience is like. There is one section where he talks about the absolute joys of taking a break in the middle of hard manual labor chopping trees, and sitting against a tree in the sunlight, all alone in nature - it's so beautiful, it just makes you want to be there experiencing it too.
He's writing about his experiences working in the 1940's and Britain is in a major shift from working a farm the very old style way (such as horses and ploughs), to more sophisticated machinery. It's fascinating to see him write about a type of farming that is now long gone. He writes very practically about the hard work, the sweat, the boredom, the wondering when the lunch break will be, etc. However, occasionally as he's talking about all these things, he will go off on a gorgeous tangent about nature, life, wonder, beauty - and it makes you see life in a whole new way. But then he will be back to the day to day grind of working on a farm. It's a nice balance, but can be slow going. It's not fast paced at all (it took me a couple months to finish) but I enjoyed reading a little bit at a time.
The last third of the book takes a slight turn. Instead of talking only about his work on a farm, he instead narrows his focus. He wants to examine the small details of one particular thing. He has individual sections such as "The Potato" , "The Worm", "Contemplation Upon Ants" and "The Mystery of Clouds" where he gets down and examines the small details about how a potato really grows, what do worms do, etc.
And the last part is about "The Wood", where he describes his experiences working in clearing out certain sections of a wood, thinning out certain things so that other trees can grow better. He writes so poetically about working in the woods and what the experience is like. There is one section where he talks about the absolute joys of taking a break in the middle of hard manual labor chopping trees, and sitting against a tree in the sunlight, all alone in nature - it's so beautiful, it just makes you want to be there experiencing it too.
Read
November 12, 2024I cannot credibly attach a rating to The Worm Forgives the Plough—it's a journey. It's a reflection on agricultural life written by an academic who opted for a life on the fields over joining for military service during World War 2, and this book reflects his experience and observations throughout those years. It threads a fine balance between his personal observations and experience on working on a farm and working with the people (and machinery) around him, and more academic observations on the biology and economics of a farm and the environment it operates in.
More concretely, one moment he is discussing how the economics and microsocial, to move another moment to discussing the role of education in agricultural life—maintaining fairly off-market views, and then there is some of this:
"My own liking for sheep is limited. As a flock they may fairly be said to be more pitiful than human beings. Their deplorable lack of self-possession and confidence, their perpetual hurrying and scurrying, their weak faces, their ceaseless maaing and baaing make one feel somehow they have got lost in evolution and are in a frightful state of anxiety about it."
Clearly, I have no authority to reduce this to a number of stars. It's a dense read, some pages I flicked through and then some were engaging, informative, or entertaining—some of all. It certainly did spark joy.
More concretely, one moment he is discussing how the economics and microsocial, to move another moment to discussing the role of education in agricultural life—maintaining fairly off-market views, and then there is some of this:
"My own liking for sheep is limited. As a flock they may fairly be said to be more pitiful than human beings. Their deplorable lack of self-possession and confidence, their perpetual hurrying and scurrying, their weak faces, their ceaseless maaing and baaing make one feel somehow they have got lost in evolution and are in a frightful state of anxiety about it."
Clearly, I have no authority to reduce this to a number of stars. It's a dense read, some pages I flicked through and then some were engaging, informative, or entertaining—some of all. It certainly did spark joy.
February 26, 2025
- the worm forgives the plough: john stewart collis - £1 RSPCA.
the kind of countryside book that has a robert macfarlane intro (yup). ah. one of collis' acquaintances was rolf gardiner (who was a bit dodge as we used to say). horsemouth is now reading the collis (who is an engaging cove).
‘we glorify the present only when it has become the past…
we imagine the creation took place in the remote past. no doubt it did. but the same thing takes place today. the third day of creation as fabled in the book of genesis, happens every year no less certainly… ’
collis spent the second world war farm labouring. he is very good on the tedium of farm labour and it’s solitude.
the kind of countryside book that has a robert macfarlane intro (yup). ah. one of collis' acquaintances was rolf gardiner (who was a bit dodge as we used to say). horsemouth is now reading the collis (who is an engaging cove).
‘we glorify the present only when it has become the past…
we imagine the creation took place in the remote past. no doubt it did. but the same thing takes place today. the third day of creation as fabled in the book of genesis, happens every year no less certainly… ’
collis spent the second world war farm labouring. he is very good on the tedium of farm labour and it’s solitude.
January 10, 2023
Interesting details of farming life in England late 1930's - 1940's. Tractors and machines starting to supplant human labor, but still many traditional farming practices and tools in use. Interesting first-hand observations, and philosophical musings about the relationships between farm laborers, farmers, townspeople etc. British cultural stereotypes and prejudices sometimes evident, which make for painful reading, but overall a fascinating book.
May 19, 2023
Some poetic writing about the British countryside and agricultural work during World War 2 that's mostly restrained and only occasionally laid on too thick. I think I prefer the farmer that's learned to write to the writer that's learned to farm, so I was pleasantly surprised to see Fred Kitchen get a name check. This book is well worth a read though, provided you can get over Collis' slight pompousness.
April 28, 2020
I greatly enjoyed the passages on the farms, however when he went in the wood he did do much more 'pondering' on things which I found rather annoying. There were some very nice woodland days described too though which were very nice. Not a book to keep, but I am glad I have read it- it took me a long time.
April 6, 2022
A rather insightful step back into the agricultural past in the first part of the book, beautifully written but perhaps a bit dragging and bit more difficult to understand for someone who doesn’t know the agricultural terms from this period. The best pieces in the book are where he doesn’t describe his own life but instead the niche parts of nature around him (celebrations of the earthworm, contemplation upon ants and a few more).
June 2, 2021
Not often I can’t force myself to finish a book but I had to abandon this one. For the poetic eloquence of the title of the collection you might think it is some wistful musings in nsture and it’s magnanimity but alas, it does just dwindle down to a man listening itineraries
July 24, 2017
If I had read this when working on the farm I think I would have never left.
The best depiction of what it is to work on the land I have ever read.
This book will stay with me for a very long time .
The best depiction of what it is to work on the land I have ever read.
This book will stay with me for a very long time .
February 19, 2019
Enjoyed this step back in time in the agricultural world, so far from where we are now!
January 24, 2021
A real classic, such an enjoyable and warm read.
March 25, 2012
I started to read this book while on holiday at an old fashioned rustic log cabin resort in British Columbia (no phones, no tv, no internet) which seemed the perfect place to learn about this author's years working as an agricultural labourer during World War Two England.
John Stewart Collis was born in 1900 and turned down an army post in 1940 in favour of joining the Land Army. An intellectual and writer, Collis had no previous experience of manual labour but did have an intense interest in the land which led him in later life to be a pioneer of the ecological movement in the UK.
Collis seems to have revelled in the hard labour and cheerfully learned the many techniques necessary to prepare soil, plant crops and harvest them, going to his labourer's cottage in the evening to enjoy a well earned rest and to write of his experiences. The result is this series of linked essays describing his work on the farms, his co-workers and the farmers he worked for. Collis has an abiding curiosity which leads him to research and write about topics which interested him, so that the book includes chapters on his research into subjects such as decomposition, the potato, the ant.
One might expect this intellectual to have a romantic view of life on a farm but this cannot be further from the truth. Collis is no Luddite and indeed celebrates the mechanical inventions of man which save some of the back-breaking labour that farmwork entails. I found myself wondering how he would feel about the advent of computers which would have made easier his own research about the topics which fascinate him.
The edition that I read contains 2 books originally published separately. I enjoyed the first volume best which concentrates on his work on 3 different farms though I do find that he jumps to some rather startling conclusions from limited evidence...for example the difference between townspeople and country folk, or the differences between male and female, although I recognise that one has to interpret his opinions in the context of the time in which he was writing. The second volume starts off with some monographs on different subjects connected to working the land which I found a little pedantic, but I was very interested in the later part in which he talks of his work in forestry. His description of the various trees on the plantation on which he works now has me looking up into the branches of trees around where I live so that I can see the differences in growth which he describes.
John Stewart Collis was born in 1900 and turned down an army post in 1940 in favour of joining the Land Army. An intellectual and writer, Collis had no previous experience of manual labour but did have an intense interest in the land which led him in later life to be a pioneer of the ecological movement in the UK.
Collis seems to have revelled in the hard labour and cheerfully learned the many techniques necessary to prepare soil, plant crops and harvest them, going to his labourer's cottage in the evening to enjoy a well earned rest and to write of his experiences. The result is this series of linked essays describing his work on the farms, his co-workers and the farmers he worked for. Collis has an abiding curiosity which leads him to research and write about topics which interested him, so that the book includes chapters on his research into subjects such as decomposition, the potato, the ant.
One might expect this intellectual to have a romantic view of life on a farm but this cannot be further from the truth. Collis is no Luddite and indeed celebrates the mechanical inventions of man which save some of the back-breaking labour that farmwork entails. I found myself wondering how he would feel about the advent of computers which would have made easier his own research about the topics which fascinate him.
The edition that I read contains 2 books originally published separately. I enjoyed the first volume best which concentrates on his work on 3 different farms though I do find that he jumps to some rather startling conclusions from limited evidence...for example the difference between townspeople and country folk, or the differences between male and female, although I recognise that one has to interpret his opinions in the context of the time in which he was writing. The second volume starts off with some monographs on different subjects connected to working the land which I found a little pedantic, but I was very interested in the later part in which he talks of his work in forestry. His description of the various trees on the plantation on which he works now has me looking up into the branches of trees around where I live so that I can see the differences in growth which he describes.
April 21, 2019
This book is one of those forgotten classics about the English countryside. I don’t think I would have read it if a friend who knows my tastes hadn’t made such a strong recommendation. It’s John Stewart Collis’s intimate account of his time working as a farm labourer during World War II. This was the time when the agricultural age was just coming into full-fledged mechanization. The time when farmers went from horses to tractors. He writes about his experiences working with other farm labourers – including ploughing, planting, threshing, haying, and harvesting. Tasks for all seasons. It’s an elegantly written memoir about the realities of farming, the way it used to be done, not like you find in the romantic novels about Thomas Hardy’s rural England.
November 29, 2013
This edition was published in 1988 by a British company, Barrie and Jenkins. It was a large hardback with beautiful illustrations in every chapter. A book to be read in sips like a tonic, the chapters are short lend themselves perfectly to this.
Any person who has ever had jobs of physical labour, especially outdoors, will relate to Collis' detailed account of his work on farms during WW2. He sees his "ordinary" work of ploughing and hoeing through the eyes of a poet and with the scope of a man who always has the big picture in his peripheral view. What a pleasure.
Any person who has ever had jobs of physical labour, especially outdoors, will relate to Collis' detailed account of his work on farms during WW2. He sees his "ordinary" work of ploughing and hoeing through the eyes of a poet and with the scope of a man who always has the big picture in his peripheral view. What a pleasure.
February 18, 2015
Two books together, both on the same theme - a bright young chap does agricultural work during the second world war. More interesting for the analysis of assorted tier of a class-ridden society, and for clever insight into various common characters, than for the stories about actually doing the work, but none-the-worse for that. Indeed, the writer describes the sheer boredom of his manual toil, with episodes of slightly more excitement, but does so in a way that is able to draw the reader into the tale. Well recommended, if you come across a copy.
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