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Some people's lives are entirely their own creations. James Rebanks' isn't. The first son of a shepherd, who was the first son of a shepherd himself, his family have lived and worked in the Lake District of Northern England for generations, further back than recorded history. It's a part of the world known mainly for its romantic descriptions by Wordsworth and the much loved illustrated children's books of Beatrix Potter. But James' world is quite different. His way of life is ordered by the seasons and the work they demand. It hasn't changed for hundreds of years: sending the sheep to the fells in the summer and making the hay; the autumn fairs where the flocks are replenished; the grueling toil of winter when the sheep must be kept alive, and the light-headedness that comes with spring, as the lambs are born and the sheep get ready to return to the hills and valleys.… (more)
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While reading, I kept pausing and thinking of all the James Herriot books I read and reread years ago. The tone and style and passion of the writing is similar - the love and respect of the land, the landscape itself, the enthusiasm and joy for daily farming and shepherding tasks - these thoughts leap out of the pages at you, embrace you and don’t let you go.
Several of my students and co-workers (I, too, needed a money-paying job) used to ask me: Why did I have sheep and chickens and a big garden? Why did I have muddy shoes sometimes at school? How come pieces of hay dropped out of my hair sometimes? Why learn to spin and weave wool? Don’t I know about Wal-Mart? Isn’t that where food comes from?
I tried to explain that the animals, the plants, and the work kept me grounded and in touch with the earth, the seasons, life itself. But this thought process and lifestyle is hard to explain and justify to most people - children or adults.
That is why I am so pleased to have discovered this book. It will always be on my shelf and referred to often. Some of my favorite passages revolve around the attempt to justify a choice of lifestyle and profession and the attempts to resolve living and working in a revered landscape.
The words that come to mind when thinking about this book are - passion (#1), love of animals, love and respect of the land, tradition, history, connectivity to surroundings, a sense of community, cooperation and compromise, reflections, mind-numbing work.
I do like the short chapters and blog-style writing.
I do enjoy Mr. Rebanks’ Twitter account. @herdyshepherd1
He is a great photographer.
I do enjoy the reflections and musings of Mr. Rebanks about land use, landscapes, love of tradition, love of family and love of sheep and farming.
I do highly recommend this book.
This book takes the reader through one
I genuinely learned some new things from reading this book. It had never occurred to me that a flock of sheep might have a particular style and character that reflects the philosophy and personalities of generations of a fell farming family.
Overall though, I feel that this book has a number of faults. Rebanks is prone to repeating himself too often, for instance when discussing the cycle of the farming year or the capabilities of the younger generation growing stronger as those of their elders fade.
Within the book the author fails to say more than the absolute minimum about his ‘other’ work as a heritage consultant to UNESCO. Presumably this is actually quite an important role and people are willing to pay for his skills and this income keeps his farm viable. The fact that this is necessary and how he fits it into the farming year is barely discussed or explored.
At one point during the farming year he says he would rather his children “saw the blood and knew that it was real than had a childish relationship with food and farming — everything in plastic packaging and everyone pretending it had never lived.” I was disappointed that Rebanks didn’t expand on this topic. I’m sure there is a story to be told about how the small scale farmer cares for his livestock very differently from the industrialised farmer.
However I was mostly left with a rather uncomfortable feeling that James Rebanks has no time for non-farmers. 'Incomers', ramblers, office workers, students and teachers are all treated with equal contempt and I feel that this would extend to me as his reader.
It didn't read as a book, more a series of assorted thoughts that sometimes flowed in an order but usually leapt from topic to topic in a seemingly disconnected manner. It has a logical sequence, with sections labelled with the various seasons, although that is not entirely followed and the reminiscences are dotted around and don;t always follow in a sequence that is apparent to the reader.
This was a particularly depressing experience and I don;t wish to spend much more time in the author's company. This one is heading to the book sale.
When Rebanks, as a rebellious teenager counting the days to the end of school, was first presented with the Wainwright-and-Wordsworth way of looking at his native region, he couldn't see the point of it. He'd been brought up to think of fells and fields according to the kind of grazing and weather-protection they offered, who owned them, who farmed them, and so on; no-one he knew would be daft enough to climb a hill unless there was work to be done at the top of it. Nowadays he's a bit more nuanced: he admits that Wordsworth had a lot of respect for shepherds and the work they did, he doesn't begrudge Wainwright his escape from Blackburn, and recognises that both have something relevant to say about the region, even if the people who climb mountains clutching their books don't always get it...
The only Lakeland writer he has serious respect for, though, is Beatrix Potter, who, whatever you might think of her children's books, was a committed breeder of Herdwick sheep and a responsible landowner, as well as employing a highly-respected shepherd whose advice she was prepared to listen to. And Herdwick sheep are clearly Rebanks's real passion: he often has to rein himself in when he starts getting lyrical about the finer points of ewes and tups he has known. Even if you barely know one end of a sheep from the other, this makes for interesting reading, because it's so evidently something Rebank cares deeply about and takes the trouble to communicate clearly.
The autobiographical parts of the book are very interesting, too. Firstly, of course, we have to think about the big question of "tradition" — do you have a special claim on something just because it's what your grandfather and father did? Why should people who happened to be born in the Lake District have a better right to work there than those born in Manchester or Blackburn? Rebanks doesn't quite confront this, but he tries to demonstrate how important it is to the work he does that he has been around sheep and shepherds since early childhood. Hill-farming techniques have been optimised in very local ways over hundreds (perhaps thousands) of years, and are best learnt from people with local knowledge. Only long experience gives you the ability to anticipate problems and be in the right place at the right time to deal with them. Also, perhaps less obviously, farming is an activity that involves complicated networks of deals between farmers who have different surpluses and needs at different times, and most of these deals rely on trust that has been built up over a long period. It's much easier to trust someone if you've known and worked with their family for several generations, even if you don't know them personally.
The other striking autobiographical element is his slightly unusual background as someone who got into the least favourable channel of the English education system, left it as early as he could with no qualifications to speak of, and then went back into education as an adult. He has a lot of nicely caustic things to say about the terrible school he went to, as well as making fun of the people who only know him as a sheep-farmer and suddenly start taking him more seriously when they discover that he has an Oxford degree (and a high-powered second job advising UNESCO...).
I have a feeling that this is not just the book you bring back from the gift-shop at (insert Lakeland tourist attraction), but something that will stand up as one of those minor classics of rural writing that people are still discovering with pleasure in secondhand bookshops in fifty years' time.
I did not enjoy school at all, even
The Rebanks family have lived and worked as shepherds in the Lake District for generations. His father was a shepherd before him, and his grandfather taught both of them all he knew. The inexorable grind of the seasons defines what they do and when. The Herdwick flock is moved up onto the high fell during the summer, and all the farmers gather to bring it down at the end of the season. The shows and sales are in the autumn when they sell the spare lambs and look for the new males tups to add to their bloodlines and quality of stock. Winter is the hardest time; the incessant rain, heavy snows and storms make keeping the sheep alive a daily battle, even for the tough Herdwicks. Spring brings new challenges as it is lambing time. Most of his flock can manage perfectly well, but there is always those that can’t and need that extra assistance. As another year passes the sheep are move back up onto the fells once again.
‘This is my life. I want no other.’
Rebanks is not afraid of hard work. Following his father and grandfather into this way of life, and he has chosen a tough and demanding career, but he loves it. He paid little attention at school, wanting to be out in the fields and up on the fells, continuing a way of life that people from the Viking age would still recognise. In his early twenties started education again this time with the single mindedness and determination to succeed. It gave him a separate career that supports the work on the farm. Like his father, he is strong minded and opinionated; great qualities for battling through all that the elements and bureaucracy have to throw at him, but not necessarily for making relationships straightforward. He is not the most eloquent or lyrical of writers, he tells it as it is, but the enthusiasm for his way of life comes across is deep hearted and honest and this is what makes this book such a pleasure to read.
A quick read (two days for me), that is worth the small investment of time. Having grown up on ranches, following my dad around feedlots, riding on horses, back-hoes, and swathers - but later leaving that life behind (and attending an elite liberal
That said, this is perhaps least interesting as a memoir - many of his personal anecdotes make Rebanks seem insecure (either constantly having something to prove, even when he's having to prove that he has nothing to prove) - but the details of the job are surprisingly engrossing.
The 'seasonal' structure of the book helps herd (sorry) his ideas into a more cohesive narrative, but at times, the book feels like a loose assemblage of dozens of thoughts, memories, explanations, and stories that come across more as disjointed blog posts than coherent chapters.
I'm still left with a greater appreciation of shepherding and its place in the Lake District than I had before - so I won't dwell on the shortcomings of the editing too much.
The author leaves school to work with his father and grandfather (whom he idolizes) on the farm. When the grandfather dies, the economic precariousness of their life along with late adolescent rebellion sends him not only back to get high school credentials, but also and matriculation and graduation from Oxford. Oxford credentials notwithstanding, this demonstrates the tough and stubborn nature of a young man raised in a tough landscape. The credentials he will need to achieve his goal of returning to the farm to create a life and a family.
This book takes the reader through one
I genuinely learned some new things from reading this book. It had never occurred to me that a flock of sheep might have a particular style and character that reflects the philosophy and personalities of generations of a fell farming family.
Overall though, I feel that this book has a number of faults. Rebanks is prone to repeating himself too often, for instance when discussing the cycle of the farming year or the capabilities of the younger generation growing stronger as those of their elders fade.
Within the book the author fails to say more than the absolute minimum about his ‘other’ work as a heritage consultant to UNESCO. Presumably this is actually quite an important role and people are willing to pay for his skills and this income keeps his farm viable. The fact that this is necessary and how he fits it into the farming year is barely discussed or explored.
At one point during the farming year he says he would rather his children “saw the blood and knew that it was real than had a childish relationship with food and farming — everything in plastic packaging and everyone pretending it had never lived.” I was disappointed that Rebanks didn’t expand on this topic. I’m sure there is a story to be told about how the small scale farmer cares for his livestock very differently from the industrialised farmer.
However I was mostly left with a rather uncomfortable feeling that James Rebanks has no time for non-farmers. 'Incomers', ramblers, office workers, students and teachers are all treated with equal contempt and I feel that this would extend to me as his reader.
As might be expected, Rebanks has a number of somewhat conservative views. He speaks of dunking sheep in WWI chemical warfare agents to keep the flies off of them. He discusses the way in which collective ownership with an aesthetic that appeals to the beauty of “natural” lands can be at odds with the needs of a traditional agricultural economy, such as when Londoners want the Lakes District as their summer retreat when the farmers would rather be left alone.
In early adulthood I spent a year farming and homesteading. The founder of the program, Ben Holmes, told me as he was walking me around the farm while I was considering enrolling on a wet and dreary day that it would be a place where I would learn the drudgery of farm work. It is hard to use the word “romantic” to describe such a sentiment, but there is something about the drudgery of farm work that comes through in Rebanks’ writing, and it is clear that he wouldn’t have it any other way.
One of the fascinations in the book is all the discussion on breeding. Similar to heirlooms seeds, maintaining a breed is as much an art as a science. The genetic diversity must be kept broad enough so that the breed is vigorous, but not so broad as to diverge from the hallmark traits.
A gaping hole in the book regards Rebanks’ cursory coverage of the Herdwick massacre of 2001 as a result of foot-and-mouth disease. No time is spent discussion what it meant to revive the breed, or how the farming community at large with this issue. Although there’s mention of slaughter and subsidies, we’re left in the dark as to how that wasn’t the end of the breed.
Rebanks states that farmers in his region can’t make a livelihood from their agricultural endeavors, and have never been able to do so. Although there is a good bit of truth to this sentiment I find it both disconcerting and depressing to reinforce such a message. Unless we can move to some kind of Universal Basic Income model, societally, we need to find ways to make agricultural economics work. Much of my professional work has revolved around this issue, and I know there are models that work. I wish Rebanks did more to highlight the ways in which agriculture can provide a living wage; I know a number of case studies in the subject.
To attest to its merits and grit, after listening to the audiobook, I actually purchased a physical copy of this book from my local bookstore to circulate amongst my community.
I especially liked reading about the relationship the author had with his grandfather, father and children. This is not just an autobiography of a family, though; it's also an autobiography of a way of life and that is what will stay with me.