The Memory of Old Jack, by Wendell Berry (Washington, D.C.: Counterpoint, 1999; first published 1974)
Set in the Kentucky landscape Wendell Berry knows best on a September day in 1952, The Memory of Old Jack focuses on retired 92-year-old farmer Jack Beechum as he remembers his life. Memories, “too old to work and get around, he can do nothing but let [them] come,” flood back to him, of family, friends, work, youth, aging, joy, despair, and always the land. Gorgeously written, tender, poignant, The Memory of Old Jack will stay with you long after the last page is read.
In 1888 he was twenty-eight years old. Three years before, both his parents dead, the older children dead or gone from home, he bought from its other heirs the land his father and grandfather had farmed, and on which he had been born, and, several years yet away from his marriage, he lived alone in the old house; an elderly Negro woman, Aunt Ren, the wife of the hired hand who had been his father’s slave, came in daily to cook and to keep the mostly forsaken rooms. The place was run down, the bank’s interest having fed heavily on it during the father’s last years, and the debt against it was large. But in those days Jack was free of other obligations, he was strong, he had the sort of overreaching intelligence that pleases itself with the difficult, and so hardship and debt did not burden him. What moved him then was a sense of the possibilities that lay yet untouched in his land. The rest of his own life seemed to him to lie there, unborn in the dark soil of the old farm. – from The Memory of Old Jack, by Wendell Berry