Rating: 
Summary: I bought it for $--but this novel is surely priceless
Review: In his preface to "Jayber Crow," Wendell Berry admonishes reviewers against finding either a "text" or "subtext" in his beautifully crafted novel. Berry then warns reviewers who "explain, interpret...or analyze" his work will face exile on a "desert island in the company only of other explainers." Faced with these restrictions and prohibitions, this reviewer will lavish praise on the author's sense of place, his gorgeous use of language and his admirable celebration of the American character.Borrowing thematically from Mark Twain's "Huckelberry Finn," "Jayber Crow" is a twentieth-century version of an American everyman's journey of understanding and self-acceptance. Twice orphaned Jayber Crow never makes much money, never owns his own home, never marries. Yet this gentle self-made spiritual giant who savors his life while trimming men's hair truly loves his Kentucky home of Port William. Crow is a living embodiment of a Jeffersonian sensibility towards land; the protagonist extols the linkage between a respectful, near-reverential stewardship of the natural world and a sense of human fulfillment and grace. Berry's Kentucky is not a cliched Arcadia. Nature is often unpredicatable and tormenting. What redeems and renews the relationship between humans and land is respect, modesty and connectedness, three qualities Jayber Crow exemplifies his entire life. It is not an accident that the man Crow admires more than any other, Athey Keith, epitomizes man's symbiotic, custodial relationship with the living earth. Nor is it accidental that the person who most tries Jayber's belief in the human condition, Troy Chatham, represents not only human cupidity, but alienation from and exploitation of the natural world. Berry's physical descriptions of water, earth, plants, animals and climate are sensual delights, lushly detailed and enormously evocative. Place mingles with the idea of home; the physical absorbs the spiritual; the specific event gains universal significance. Because Berry imposes a modesty on Jayber Crow, readers discern a profound compassion for human frailties and a renewed faith in the imperative of connection. The novel is at its best when Berry reveals our common needs and drives for attachment: to our spiritual essence, to our brothers and sisters, and to our fragile, forgiving planet. Echoing Serwood Anderson's "Winesburg, Ohio," Berry's novel also selects a common man to serve as the unspoken but ackowledged subliminal repository of a town's secrets and identity. Jayber Crow, unassuming barber, shares and shapes the identity of Port William, either through his ministrations to men's hair, as gravedigger or as church sweeper. Regardless, the people of his community reveal themselves to him, and Crow perceives them as eminently human, flawed, incomplete and wonderful. The author's ability to represent the masaic of our national character through the people who form the boundaries of Jayber Crow's life is simply extraordinary. Nowhere is Berry's hopes for our national survival better manifested than through his depiction of Mattie Athey Chatham. Under the author's skilled handling, Mattie evolves far past a love interest into a symbol of redemption and reconciliation. Wendell Berry holds an esteemed position as an interpreter of who we are, what we believe and what we hope to represent. "Jayber Crow" cements Berry's reputation as a celebrant of our democracy.
Rating:
Summary: evocative, sensitive celebration of an uncommon common man
Review: In his preface to "Jayber Crow," Wendell Berry admonishes reviewers against finding either a "text" or "subtext" in his beautifully crafted novel. Berry then warns reviewers who "explain, interpret...or analyze" his work will face exile on a "desert island in the company only of other explainers." Faced with these restrictions and prohibitions, this reviewer will lavish praise on the author's sense of place, his gorgeous use of language and his admirable celebration of the American character. Borrowing thematically from Mark Twain's "Huckelberry Finn," "Jayber Crow" is a twentieth-century version of an American everyman's journey of understanding and self-acceptance. Twice orphaned Jayber Crow never makes much money, never owns his own home, never marries. Yet this gentle self-made spiritual giant who savors his life while trimming men's hair truly loves his Kentucky home of Port William. Crow is a living embodiment of a Jeffersonian sensibility towards land; the protagonist extols the linkage between a respectful, near-reverential stewardship of the natural world and a sense of human fulfillment and grace. Berry's Kentucky is not a cliched Arcadia. Nature is often unpredicatable and tormenting. What redeems and renews the relationship between humans and land is respect, modesty and connectedness, three qualities Jayber Crow exemplifies his entire life. It is not an accident that the man Crow admires more than any other, Athey Keith, epitomizes man's symbiotic, custodial relationship with the living earth. Nor is it accidental that the person who most tries Jayber's belief in the human condition, Troy Chatham, represents not only human cupidity, but alienation from and exploitation of the natural world. Berry's physical descriptions of water, earth, plants, animals and climate are sensual delights, lushly detailed and enormously evocative. Place mingles with the idea of home; the physical absorbs the spiritual; the specific event gains universal significance. Because Berry imposes a modesty on Jayber Crow, readers discern a profound compassion for human frailties and a renewed faith in the imperative of connection. The novel is at its best when Berry reveals our common needs and drives for attachment: to our spiritual essence, to our brothers and sisters, and to our fragile, forgiving planet. Echoing Serwood Anderson's "Winesburg, Ohio," Berry's novel also selects a common man to serve as the unspoken but ackowledged subliminal repository of a town's secrets and identity. Jayber Crow, unassuming barber, shares and shapes the identity of Port William, either through his ministrations to men's hair, as gravedigger or as church sweeper. Regardless, the people of his community reveal themselves to him, and Crow perceives them as eminently human, flawed, incomplete and wonderful. The author's ability to represent the masaic of our national character through the people who form the boundaries of Jayber Crow's life is simply extraordinary. Nowhere is Berry's hopes for our national survival better manifested than through his depiction of Mattie Athey Chatham. Under the author's skilled handling, Mattie evolves far past a love interest into a symbol of redemption and reconciliation. Wendell Berry holds an esteemed position as an interpreter of who we are, what we believe and what we hope to represent. "Jayber Crow" cements Berry's reputation as a celebrant of our democracy.
Rating: 
Summary: A story about loss
Review: Jayber Crow is a story about loss--loss of identity, loss of place, loss of pride, loss of family and how one man navigates that loss. The author has duly warned me that those attempting "to explain, interpret, explicate, analyze, deconstruct, or otherwise 'understand' it [the book] will be exiled to a desert island in the company only of other explainers." Having been duly warned (but prepared to accept my fate if need be), I'll try to stay focused on the life story of Jayber Crow, barber, grave digger, and sexton in Port William. I found that as soon as Jayber settled into the life of Port William, I stopped caring about him. I was routing for him all along through the loss of his parents, the death of his foster parents--Uncle Othy and Aunt Cordie--the Good Shepherd Orphange, and as a pre-ministerial student at Pigeonville. There are some achingly sad and beautiful passages describing life, death, and especially the river. "And I saw how all-of-a-piece it [the river] was, how never-ending--always coming, always there, always going" (pg. 132). Many of the author's river descriptions reminded me of Hermann Hesse's little classic book, Siddhartha. More than once, the text became blurry as my tears fell on the page. Perhaps it was Jayber's voyeurism that finally got to me when he settled in Port William. Always on the periphery of things, I wanted to scream at him "Get a life!" Especially troublesome to me was his unrequited love for Mattie. Did he have to go through with the formality of "marrying" her? What was the point? I can understand his "love" for Mattie. I can understand him not acting publicly on that "love." But marriage by definition is a social act. And then to be "faithful" to her because Troy, her husband, wasn't--well, it strains credibility--although I'm sympathetic to the feeling of it all. Read Jayber Crow for its excellent prose. Yes, Jayber's worldview seems stuck within a Christian paradigm. It's still worth your while! It's easy to hear the author's larger message about the environment throughout the text--a message that I hope is not too late in coming. In the last scene of the book, Mattie says, "I could die in peace, I think, if the world was beautiful. To know it's being ruined is hard" (pg. 363). What can your response be other than "Amen?"
Rating:
Summary: A story about loss
Review: Jayber Crow is a story about loss--loss of identity, loss of place, loss of pride, loss of family and how one man navigates that loss. The author has duly warned me that those attempting "to explain, interpret, explicate, analyze, deconstruct, or otherwise 'understand' it [the book] will be exiled to a desert island in the company only of other explainers." Having been duly warned (but prepared to accept my fate if need be), I'll try to stay focused on the life story of Jayber Crow, barber, grave digger, and sexton in Port William. I found that as soon as Jayber settled into the life of Port William, I stopped caring about him. I was routing for him all along through the loss of his parents, the death of his foster parents--Uncle Othy and Aunt Cordie--the Good Shepherd Orphange, and as a pre-ministerial student at Pigeonville. There are some achingly sad and beautiful passages describing life, death, and especially the river. "And I saw how all-of-a-piece it [the river] was, how never-ending--always coming, always there, always going" (pg. 132). Many of the author's river descriptions reminded me of Hermann Hesse's little classic book, Siddhartha. More than once, the text became blurry as my tears fell on the page. Perhaps it was Jayber's voyeurism that finally got to me when he settled in Port William. Always on the periphery of things, I wanted to scream at him "Get a life!" Especially troublesome to me was his unrequited love for Mattie. Did he have to go through with the formality of "marrying" her? What was the point? I can understand his "love" for Mattie. I can understand him not acting publicly on that "love." But marriage by definition is a social act. And then to be "faithful" to her because Troy, her husband, wasn't--well, it strains credibility--although I'm sympathetic to the feeling of it all. Read Jayber Crow for its excellent prose. Yes, Jayber's worldview seems stuck within a Christian paradigm. It's still worth your while! It's easy to hear the author's larger message about the environment throughout the text--a message that I hope is not too late in coming. In the last scene of the book, Mattie says, "I could die in peace, I think, if the world was beautiful. To know it's being ruined is hard" (pg. 363). What can your response be other than "Amen?"
Rating:
Summary: a lyrical, lovely piece of prose
Review: Maybe I should a lyrical piece of poetry because Berry is more of a poet than a novelist -- this is one of the most beautifully written novels I've come across. Every page seems to have a passage worthy of underlining and coming back to. Other have summarized well the fictional life of the narrator, Jayber, who takes on a mental and spiritual journey through his childhood, adventures and later life with such gorgeous prose that you won't be able to put it down. In the beginning the author warns that we shouldn't try to deconstruct or interpret the book as that would ruin it. With such lovely prose and elegiac style, I'd hate to give anything else away except to urge anyone who loves a coming of age story and great writing to rush out and buy it. This is the first Berry book I've read, but it was highly recommended to me by a very strong reader friend and as usual, she was right on the mark! The last page had such an aching quality that most readers will find themselves reading it over and over, sad that such a fine book as come to a close.
Rating:
Summary: a lyrical, lovely piece of prose
Review: Maybe I should a lyrical piece of poetry because Berry is more of a poet than a novelist -- this is one of the most beautifully written novels I've come across. Every page seems to have a passage worthy of underlining and coming back to. Other have summarized well the fictional life of the narrator, Jayber, who takes on a mental and spiritual journey through his childhood, adventures and later life with such gorgeous prose that you won't be able to put it down. In the beginning the author warns that we shouldn't try to deconstruct or interpret the book as that would ruin it. With such lovely prose and elegiac style, I'd hate to give anything else away except to urge anyone who loves a coming of age story and great writing to rush out and buy it. This is the first Berry book I've read, but it was highly recommended to me by a very strong reader friend and as usual, she was right on the mark! The last page had such an aching quality that most readers will find themselves reading it over and over, sad that such a fine book as come to a close.
Rating:
Summary: Five stars are not enough.
Review: Quite simply the most important book I have ever read. The friend who first told me about this book calls it "The New New Testament." This book told me more about what human relationships are and what they should be than anything I have ever read. This is the first time that I have ever finished a book and immediately started to read it again. Since I finished it the second time, I have turned to it over and over for the wisdom, humor, sacredness that are all found in the simple, elegant way that Mr. Berry has with words. And I have shared it with the most important person in my life. I live in a small town and love the people who populate our communities. No one has ever captured the feel of these people and these places as Wendell Berry does. But more than that, Wendell Berry captures the essence of what we all are, the torment that arises between what we seem to know at our core are the real values of our lives and what we are pressed to pursue to our own detriment. The characters are constantly alive and this is the greatest love story ever written. Thank you Mr. Berry for making my life better by this wonderful book!
Rating:
Summary: More than a great novel- also a sober warning
Review: The deep observations of Jayber Crow should embarrass and shame readers of the modern age who share responsibility for what we've allowed to happen to our rural landscapes and communities. This is more than a great novel with memorable characters. It is wisdom and it should, like Berry's essays, wake us up to protect and value what remains of our land. It is clear just from reading this one novel that we are living in a world run by fools and, more than ever, we need to educate ourselves and our particular circle of influence to what is being lost. We need to guard our communities and change our lives to reflect our convictions. Most people won't realize what we've lost until its gone. Do more with your life than seek easy pleasure and comfort for yourself. Make a difference for the next generations. Oh, and maybe we should all be a little more wary of "the man behind the desk."
Rating:
Summary: The Tao of Crow
Review: The utopian idealist Wendell Berry has blessed us again with a book that lambasts "progress" and whose main character lives a life most would deem too ordinary. But the limits of Jayber Crow's ambitions and his avoidance of authority give him the space to observe the human condition, and these observations hold the sincerity of the philosopher and the awe of the innocent. Berry is the master of the synechdoche: the microcosm represents the universal; the universal is in the details. I'm not quite sure how he does it. His use of the language is elegant, yet straightforward. His faith permeates every line. This is a craftsman writing at the top of his game. The reader may need some perseverance to reach the point at which Jayber Crow finds his destiny in Port William, but once he's in his chair, compromising with ego, and studying the community he loves, the reader will be hooked. By the time Jayber moves to his cabin in the woods, the reader will want to stay alongside him, to live deliberately and with Thoreau-like simplicity.
Rating:
Summary: Beautiful From Start to Finish
Review: This is one of those books that you want to make notes in margins so that you can go back and reflect on it's spirituality. In a simple elegant story, Berry captures the essence of the deep questions that are not always found in the dramatic events of life, but are in the everyday living. It touched me deeply and I am grateful for Mr. Berry for helping me remember the pleasure of a simple, reflective life.
|
