That picture there (by AP photographer Charles Dharapak) shows President Barack Obama presenting Wendell Berry with a 2010 National Humanities Medal on Wednesday at the White House.
Wendell Berry scares me. He is a poet, novelist, essayist, farmer, husband, conservationist, radical and gentleman. He writes with an unrivaled clarity of language, clarity of thought and clarity of conviction. It’s that conviction that scares me, because often when I read Wendell Berry I can’t help but think that if he is right, then a great deal of the rest of the world is wrong. And he usually seems to be right.
His Port Royal novels are gently beautiful, slowly building a world that sneaks up on you. But his collections of essays are probably my favorites. Let me recommend Home Economics, What Are People For?, The Hidden Wound and, oh let’s say, Sex, Economy, Freedom and Community, for starters.
If you’re not familiar with Berry, he has helpfully written a manifesto of sorts, “The Mad Farmer Liberation Front.” Here’s a bit of that:
Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it. …
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