Labor and the land

Phrases like “quiet-­quitting” and so-called “acting your wage,” popularized through social media, have demonstrated how many 20-somethings feel about work. Two recent books depict contrasting views about vocation, one of them showing that the simple enjoyment of one’s calling can be a deeply satisfying thing.

From beloved American author Wendell Berry comes How It Went (Counterpoint 2022), a collection of character Andy Catlett’s memories and the memories he inherited. The novel is the 12th in Berry’s Port William Membership series, but reading the previous 11 isn’t necessary for context. The latest reads like a volume of short stories, full of sincere reflections on how technology changed the American landscape during the 20th century. People changed too, something Berry communicates without any kids-these-days harrumphing.

Some characters use bad language, and there are a few crude, old-man type jokes. In one scene, curious young Billy Gibbs accidentally spies on a sexual tryst, but Berry leaves out explicit details. Despite some sexually suggestive moments, the book is about honest people trying to do good work and care for their neighbors, undeterred by the politics and diversity particulars that have since divided the country. “It was possible, after all,” remarks Andy, “to pay a man to work and thus require him to do it, and even, to a point, to do it well, but only by his own choice could he work beautifully.”

Sara Baume’s Seven Steeples (HarperCollins 2022) tells the story of Bell and Sigh, a modern couple who leave their urban lives behind and relocate to the Irish coast a few months after meeting. Upon arrival, they promise to climb the towering mountain in the distance but keep procrastinating as the years pass. They avoid contact with others, allowing previous friends and family connections to fall away on purpose. At least they have each other, and of course their dogs, Pip and Voss.

Neither Bell nor Sigh takes up employment during the book’s 8-year timeframe, and they spend their days doing as little as possible while living on “social welfare payments and dwindling savings.” Baume uses most of the book to describe the scenery (nature seems like the real main character), and she depicts intricate details of the environment without sounding corny. Some readers might find the occasional, poetry-style gaps between words annoying. There is some strong language, and the main characters live together unmarried, but there is no mention of sex.

Though the storyline here is not as dramatic as many novels, this one has much to say about the current zeitgeist: “They were post-family then, post-­doctrine, post-consumerism. And they had left themselves with nothing to celebrate.”