REVIEWSrnThe Placed Personrnby Stephen L. TannerrnFidelity: Five Storiesrnby Wendell BerryrnNew York: Pantheon;rn201 pp., $20.00rnSabbaths, 1987-1990rnby Wendell BerryrnGolgonooza Press: Ipswich, Englandrn(distributed by Gnomon Press ofrnFrankfort, Kentucky);rn48 pp.. $9.50 ‘rnFor about 30 years Wendell Berry hasrnbeen writing fiction, poetry, and essaysrnmotivated by what he identifies asrn”a desire to make myself responsibly atrnhome in this world and in my native andrnchosen place.” I think the “world” hernhas in mind is that of mortality in generalrnand of our chaotic urbanized, technologized,rnand morally problematizedrncontemporary society in particular. It isrnalso the world of nature, which is a primaryrnconcern of his writing. His “nativernand chosen place” is a region of Kentuckyrnsettled by his great-great-greatgrandfatherrn190 years ago. Being “responsiblyrnat home” seems for him tornmean recognizing and honoring obligationsrnboth to the natural world and tornother persons. It means responsible stewardshiprnof land on the one hand and, onrnthe other, a communal life that allows, inrnhis words, “great loss to be recognized,rnsuffered, and borne, and that makes possiblernsome sort of consolation and renewal.”rnIn the bookstore 1 frequent, Berry’srnbooks arc located in a variety of sections:rnnovels, short stories, essays, general nature,rnenvironmental studies. But thoughrnversatile in genre, his writing is surprisinglyrnuniform in subject, theme, andrntone. This uniformity is at least partlyrndue to a center of values fostered by regionrnand generation.rnBerry studied writing at Stanford inrnthe late 50’s, a place and time that happenedrnto bring distinguished writerteachersrnlike Wallace Stegncr, RichardrnScowcroft, Malcolm Cowlev, and FrankrnO’Connor together with talented studentsrnlike Wendell Berry, Ken Kesey,rnLarry McMurtry, Robert Stone, TilliernOlsen, and others. Ken Kesey oncernlikened this class to the Green Bay Packersrnunder Vince Lombardi. It is an interestingrngeneration of writers because itrnembodies a major transition in Americanrnlife. Consider Berry, Kesey, and McMurtryrnas examples. Born in the 30’s inrnrural areas, they passed through childhoodrnbefore TV and the electronic age.rnThey knew something of the Depression,rnof the austerity of the war years,rnand of the rural afterglow of frontier life.rnAll three have written warmly aboutrnfrontier values in their regions; Kentucky,rnOregon, and Texas. Even Kesey, whornbecame a charismatic figure in thernpsvehcdelic counterculture of the 60’s,rnhas never strayed far from his roots, andrnhis first two novels, which establishedrnhis literary reputation, are glorificationsrnof old-fashioned frontier self-reliance.rnPerhaps these writers have prized olderrnways of American life because as adultsrnthey have been bombarded by perplexingrnnewer ways that make their lingeringrnrural memories even more appealing.rnAll three have written of persisting ruralrnfrontier values in conflict with urbanrntechnological society.rnIt may merely be coincidence thatrntheir teacher, Wallace Stegner, was alsornpreoccupied with region and past. Inrnany ease, Wendell Berry, to narrow thernfocus again, writes with respectful lovernabout rural communal life, and all thernmore movingly because he sees clearlyrnhow that life is endangered, just as certainrnspecies of natural life are endangered.rnHis stories of the Port Williamrnmembership, his fictional Kentuckyrncommunity, reveal a process of old membersrndying and the young moving away tornud^an centers.rnIn one of his essays. Berry remarks thatrn”whereas most American writers—andrneven most Americans—of my time arerndisplaced persons, I am a placed person.”rnAnd the obvious concern of muchrnof his writing is with how to make thernmost of a sustained relationship with onernparticular place. He is alert to the dangersrnof condescension and animosity towardrnone’s origins. I le enjoys a situationrnmost Americans do not. He farms landrnthat has been in his family for generations.rnThis stability in location and continuityrnin relationships with family andrnneighbors—dead as well as living—contrastsrnwith the general transeienec andrndisjointedness of American society. Itrnprovides Berry with a canvas for depictingrnwhat he has called the tragic naturernof community life. Community life isrntragic, he says in a recent essay titledrn”Writer and Region,” “because it involvesrnunremittingly the need to survivernmortality, partiality, and evil.” The relativelyrnstable continuity of his worldrnbrings into relief the ancient cycle of lossrnand grief, hope and joy, and allows for arndepiction of the forms and ceremoniesrnof community that “return us to a renewedrnand corrected awareness of ourrnpartiality and mortality, but also to healingrnand to joy in a renewed awareness ofrnour love and hope for one another.”rnBoth of these books are continuations,rnadditions to a body of stories and poemsrnabout the same places, characters, andrnhabits of responding to nature. The fivernstories of Fidelity, though satisfying whenrnread independently, resonate even morernfully when read in the larger context ofrnhis stories about the Port William membership.rnTaken together they portray arncommunity over several generations.rnLike the earlier stories, those of Fidelityrnare quiet, gentle, unassuming in stylernand traditional in technique. A familyrnforgives a killing; a husband displaysrnthoughtful concern for an ill wife; a soldierrnreturns to his farm from war; a manrnremoves without authorization his dyingrnfather from the sterile and alien environmentrnof a large hospital so he canrnbreath his last in his home woods; andrnneighbors check on the welfare of eachrnother in time of high water.rnPretty tame stuff in our world ofrntabloids and “reality” and “docudrama”rntelevision. But Berry’s genius lies in hisrnability to make commonplace goodnessrninteresting. Even Tolstoy, that great gururnof goodness, found unhappy familiesrnmore interesting than happy ones. Berryrnis not ashamed to treat happiness, becausernin the context of his stories it resultsrnwhen the work and suffering of thernlULY 1993/35rnrnrn