Jayber Crow

Image of book coverWendell Berry’s The Life Story of Jayber Crow, Barber, of the Port William Membership, as Written by Himself is a portrait of a community and a bygone era. I read it in about three days and I loved it to pieces. Already I am looking forward to rereading it.

The novel takes place in the fictional town of Port William, a farming community located along the Kentucky River. In describing the various different members of the community Berry shows us how interconnected and interdependent they all are — and we see why he calls it the Port William Membership. I was reminded of Orson Scott Card, who is at his best when describing the ties that bind, such as the tapestry of life in the Alvin Maker series or the golden strands in the Homecoming series. Berry expresses the same idea, only he does it in a beautifully understated way, without resorting to hokey metaphors.

Not only are the members connected with and dependent upon each other, but they are connected to the land as well. The bygone era I mentioned is the pre-WWII era of the small farmer. The novel describes in poignant detail how increasing mechanization and “agribusiness” gradually takes over, to the detriment of the land and the town.

Against this backdrop is Jayber Crow’s life story. As the town’s barber, church janitor, and grave digger, he is well-situated to observe the Membership. Over the course of his life he cuts a lot of hair, questions his religion, makes a vow, plants a garden, buys and then sells a car, sympathizes with the plight of the small farmer, loves, hates, forgives, grieves, and rejoices.

The book is pretty preachy, but I like preachy books if the preaching is done gently and if I agree with the message. Here the message is about the power of love, the importance of land conservation, and the Golden Rule. Who could argue with that?

I loved many things about this book, besides the preaching. I loved the humor. I loved the rural setting, especially the river. I loved the very frequent use of the word affection. I loved the names, especially of minor characters such as “Portly Jones’s brother Wisely” who appears in one scene only, I believe, and never says a word. I love the writing, which is economical but very vivid. Here are a couple of examples to give you the flavor. First, some humor and another minor character with a great name:

Julep Smallwood, as his comrades told one another amusedly and somewhat resentfully in endless speculation on the matter, was not an alcoholic. He had not even an honest entitlement to be called a drunk. If Julep had drunk only the liquor he paid for, he would have been dry as a preacher. He would have crackled when he walked, as Burley Coulter would now and again inform him. Julep’s addiction was to free liquor, namely other people’s… His favorite Bible verse was, “Drink no longer water, but use a little wine for thy stomach’s sake and thine often infirmities” — which he quoted frequently when he was sober and able to propose and believe that he drank in moderation, since on the average he did, and in a tone conveying a certain self-pity for his often infirmities and the cruel scarcity in Port William of the sanctioned remedy.

Second, an example of Jayber using the word affection:

It was a strange thing to cut out the blocks of sod and then dig my way to the dark layer where the dead lie. I feel a little uneasy in calling them “the dead,” for I am as mystified as anybody by the transformation known as death, and the Resurrection is more real to me than most things I have not yet seen. I understand that people’s dead bodies are not exactly them, and yet as I dug down to where they were, I would be mindful of them, and respectful, and would feel a curious affection for them all. They all had belonged here once, and they were so much more numerous than the living. I thought and thought about them… Why I should have felt tender toward them all was not clear to me, but I did.

Of course that’s not just an example of his use of the word affection — that quote also illustrates another aspect of the novel, which is that Christianity and religious themes abound. Depending on your, uh, orientation, you might or might not like that. As for me, I have to confess that despite being a nice Jewish girl, most if not all of my favorite books have a strong streak of Christianity running through them, and this one is no exception.

I understand Berry has written other books about the Port William Membership. I can hardly wait!

5 Comments

  1. veronica said . . .

    It sounds interesting, but I have about a dozen books waiting to be read right now. And I still haven’t tried Patrick O’Briam yet.

    Posted August 18, 2007 at 9:35 pm | Permalink
  2. Melissa said . . .

    Another Wendell Berry convert. Welcome. :) (Inkling likes his fiction better; I’m a non-fiction fan of his, myself.)

    Posted August 19, 2007 at 6:26 pm | Permalink
  3. Inkling said . . .

    I never like non-fiction better than fiction. I think that’s because of my artist-y side. I want to be shown, not told. I’m so glad you loved this book. It’s actually the most religious novel–excepting maybe Hannah Coulter. The others are less. I suggest A Place on Earth next. Then The Memory of Old Jack. Then Hannah Coulter. And for funny, read Watch With Me. Then, the other novels. Then you can start on the non-fiction and the poetry–tee hee!

    Posted August 20, 2007 at 1:27 am | Permalink
  4. Julie said . . .

    Veronica, go for POB first. :)

    Melissa, how come you don’t like his fiction? Or are you just saying you like his non-fic better? And did you agree with my comment about OSC?

    Inkling: “I want to be shown, not told.”

    EXACTLY! And if I’m going to be “told” I want it to be a story, thank you very much. :)

    Surfing around the blogosphere the other day I came across a blog whose author was “Mrs. Coulter.” I got all excited, only to discover she was referring to the Mrs. Coulter in the His Dark Materials series.

    Posted August 20, 2007 at 7:46 am | Permalink
  5. Melissa said . . .

    Um, it’s not that I don’t like his fiction; I just am not one for depth in language and story-telling. (For the most part, there are exceptions… it’s my non-artistic side. :) ) I have read Memory of Old Jack and Watch With Me, and did enjoy them both. I just prefer to be challenged by and enlightened by his non-fiction.

    I do agree with your OSC assessment. He is best when he’s describing ties that bind, and when he’s delving into characters. He’s at his worst when he starts to moralize. It’s too bad that his later stuff has more moralizing than characterization. (IMHO.)

    Posted August 22, 2007 at 9:51 am | Permalink

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