The Cost Of Reading Wendell Berry

"Is it good?" is the question Wendell Berry constantly asks us. It's a question which demands a response.

It is painful, at times very painful, reading Wendell Berry. There you are, sitting down comfortably to read what you think will be a quaint and nostalgic treatise on the virtues of horse-drawn tools, when suddenly you are confronted with Mr. Berry forcing you to reconsider your relationship with speed, efficiency, and the fast-paced life¹. Or perhaps you are settling down at night in the warm glow of your lightbulb to read an essay before you go to bed, only to read how Mr. Berry has committed that he will not write in the evening as that would mean he has to use electric lights. This, he argues, would make him complicit in the mountain top removal coal mining for electrical energy generation that he has protested so vehemently against². Being confronted with our complicity in the degradation, damage, and at times, destruction of the good which is all around us is painful. For sure, then, it can be a highly uncomfortable experience reading Wendell Berry. But the pain is why you should.

Mr. Berry may not always be right — there are some significant theological issues where I think he gets things seriously wrong — but he always makes you think. That, I believe, is one of the primary reasons why Mr. Berry has devoted his life to writing and to farming (the visual and earthy representation of his words) — to make us think. In this day and age, where the world is designed to be as frictionless as possible (one-click ordering and all), deep thought is a rare and precious thing indeed. Writers that challenge us, provoke us from our slumber, and cause us to stop and ponder are the very ones who are worth frequently picking up off the bookshelf.

If Mr. Berry has his way, though, you won’t stop at mere thoughts. Good thoughts and good intentions lead to nowhere “good” unless they are acted upon. Mr. Berry desires that the thoughts he induces will take root deep within you. As these thoughts and ideas develop and mature, he intends for them to work on your affections, desires, and habits resulting in changed behaviour: a reordered relationship with creation; an unrelenting fidelity to nurturing the health of your community; a lasting endeavour to take responsibility for the damage you inevitably cause³; and a deep and profound commitment to truly care. In short, Berry wants to leave you changed; that you will be a different man or woman to who you once were before you picked up his words — and on the path, perhaps, towards the Good Life.

I have been reading Wendell Berry persistently for about 4 years now and I can categorically say I am not the same man as I was before I started reading his words. Spending prolonged time with a writer’s words opens the door for them to take up residence in your mind and permits them to work on your subconsciousness. You start to impulsively think along the grain of their thought and in accordance with their theories and arguments. After reading Mr. Berry for a while, and thus becoming well-acquainted with his foundational arguments for health, membership, and ecological stewardship, I have started reflexively questioning my everyday decisions. For instance, when I am walking down the aisles of my local supermarket and reach up to grasp a package of ultra-processed food, it is like Wendell Berry is sitting on my shoulder saying, “But is it good?” Or perhaps, if I am listening attentively enough, Mr. Berry is whispering, “Is it good?” in my ear even before I set foot in the supermarket.

Above all, Mr. Berry has forced me to reconsider my relationship to my local place. Am I being a blessing to Chelmsford, or a curse? Am I building up the “cultural humus”⁴ of my place, or am I draining or degrading its reserves? Am I seeking to protect and cherish the local distinctives of the place I am in? Am I fulfilling the responsibilities I have towards my place, its people, and its wildlife? Above all, Am I living the Good Life in the place I am in — and would my neighbours agree?

Answering these questions positively is costly. It has required spending a great deal more on my food than before, so that I am supporting local ‘good farmers’ who are stewarding their land well. It has meant being more interested in local politics and local news than the ever-tempting and exciting national or international news⁵, as it is only my local area that I can really care for and be involved within. It has meant I need to eliminate, as much as I can, the wastes that I produce that would otherwise pollute my local environment (or would be shipped away to become some place else’s problem⁶). Finally, it means I must not stop at what is merely “morally permissible”, but ask what is good and better for myself, my neighbour, and my place.

And commit to doing it.

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It is worth mentioning that the gulf between being merely “morally permissible” and being “good or right” is often vast. There are many facets to the question of “What is good?”. The wise among us will realise this. There are aesthetic facets, cultural and communal facets, ecological facets, and many more besides. There are some powerful individuals, though, (for whom shareholder value is the only valuable facet) who would like to hide these facets from our consideration — and they have been wickedly successful. Gross injustices are obscured by long supply chains; ecological damage is played down, hidden from view, or “greenwashed” away; and boring or downright ugly designs in infrastructure are normalised in the name of “efficiency”.

Fully and accurately considering these diverse facets to arrive at a judgement of what is good, is hard and mentally taxing — if not infuriating — work. Not least because of all the impediments Big Business throws in our way, but also because of our natural limitations of time, comprehension, and knowledge. Thus, fully considering the facets of the good requires slowing down and doing less⁷ — the very things efficiency demands that we must not do. But, ignoring efficiencies’ Siren calls enables a greater degree of purposefulness in our actions and a greater degree of conformity to the Good Life. And that, my friends, is worth it.

The Good Life is not necessary an easy or wholly pleasurable life — in fact it is often the polar opposite. Many and great are the obstacles, stumbling blocks, and steep gradients on the narrow path: true care requires great sacrifice; being committed to what is just, ecological, and beautiful means foregoing many short-term pleasures and lucrative financial opportunities; and confronting our complicity in the destruction that is all around us is acutely painful. But it is the life worth pursuing. A significant part of what it means to live the Good Life⁸ is what Mr. Berry can help us to see. For that, we owe him immense debt of gratitude — even when it hurts.

Background to this essay

This essay was inspired by a discussion I had on the last Wendell Berry Reading Group. Towards the end, a participant commented: “There’s a cost to reading Wendell Berry. You can’t help but be changed when you read him.” This was one of those moments when the lightbulb switches on. A eureka moment. An essay started to form in my mind instantly. And this is the result. If anything, I hope this demonstrates the quality of the discussions we have on the Wendell Berry reading Group and encourages you to consider joining us next time.

The recording of the session is available for paid subscribers in the section below.

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