Customer Reviews

It's a Long Road to a Tomato: Tales of an Organic Farmer Who Quit the Big City for the (Not So) Simple Life

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I was looking forward to this book and greatly enjoyed the first one hundred pages or so, even ignoring the ill-advised method of punishing his dogs for killing chickens - tying them up with dead chickens around their neck (after beating them with said dead chickens) and then leaving them there with little to eat. As any dog owner with a modicum of common sense can see,chickens are the greatest squeeky toys on earth. They make funny noises, have feathers that fly all over and when they run away from you it is absolutely comical, not to mention the fact that they aren't nearly fast enough to actually escape. That is why the vast majority of dogs in this world would love to kill a chicken if they had the opportunity. The way to prevent this is to keep dogs away from chickens. It's as simple as that.

In one of the later chapters the author seems to be very amused that his free-ranging, adult, un-neutered dog has been breeding females on his travels. Well, duh. When his neighbor is upset about this, the author desparages them. Obviously, it is funny that his dog has been impregnating females and his neighbor is taking things far too seriously. Finally taking his adult dog in to be neutered(the dog had been in his "care" for some time) they discover that he has heartworm disease. The author explains that this is a disease roaming dogs are susceptible too. Yet, he hasn't ever thought of having the dog on heart worm preventative. Indeed, his dog hasn't been to a veterinarian during his stint at the farm. Oh, he did take him to a couple of those free rabies vaccination clinics. As an aside, those clinics are intended for low-income dog owners, not lazy people who don't value veterinary services.

As his dog's heath declines and he suffers from severe arthritis - so much so that he is incontinent and has much difficulty rising - the author decides that the dog would be most happy living out his life as an outdoor dog. This despite the fact, that as the author allows, with his short coat he is ill-equipped for life outdoors during winter. He goes on to explain that it was one of the worst winters in his time on the farm and he relays the hardships on the poor dog and himself. But, he decides that the "primal blood" flowing through his dog's veins has a need to be outside among the wilderness that is his true home. Primal blood? Dogs are domesticated, meaning that we have taken them AWAY from the wild.

Finally and most appallingly for me is his idiotic treatment of his roster. As has been commented on by others, one of his actions is unexcusable. Some have defended him by saying he was new to farming, but when this event occurred he had been on the farm long enough for his original rooster to be too old to serve his purpose - mating with hens. While at the farmers' market, he acquires a handsome, strong, young adult rooster. Getting back to the farm late in the evening, he walks through the dark to his chicken coop and places the new rooster on a perch amongst the hens and the old rooster. For some reason he seems surprised when he discovers in the morning that the young rooster has nearly killed the old rooster. This is after he has commented on how chickens can be very combative and cause great harm to other chickens. Again, his old rooster nearly getting killed is just part of the circle of life, or so it seems to him. This despite the fact that the chickens were confined in a coop that he made himself.

For someone who is so vehemently against "industrial agriculture" and cramped confinement systems, his words have an incredibly hollow ring given his treatment of his own animals.I have made it to the last chapter of the book - but I'm not sure I even want to read it. Earlier on I was planning to share this with other local food and sustainable agriculture proponents I know. Having read the book, that isn't going to happen. This could have been a wonderful book, if only he didn't have animals.

For those who consider this a rant, I would beg to differ. I would have really appreciated a review like this before I wasted my time and money. But in a way, yes, it is a rant. That's the beauty of free speech.

Just looking at the cover of this book makes me wish it was summer, and I could find a homegrown, red, ripe, juicy tomato.

I'm a cold-weather gal, so wishing for summer is not something I do often. But there is something very earthy and very appealing about Stewart's memoir of his organic farming life. (The fact that it is illustrated with woodcuts done by Stewart's wife, Flavia Bacarella, doesn't hurt-I love woodcuts. And how about that name? Seems like I could be earthy and appealing, too, if my name were "Flavia.")

It's an interesting book, with each chapter/essay offering a short perspective on the challenges facing small farmers of all types, as well as different aspects of rural life and farm marketing in New York City's Union Square Greenmarket. On my mental "gardening/rural life books" continuum, I liked it better than William Alexander's horrible The $64 Tomato, in which the author told about trying to kill an opossum in the most bungling and painful way possible; but did not like it as much as Michael Ableman's On Good Land, which seemed to be a bit more personable, or humorous, or something. But in the end I still enjoyed this one very much. I particularly liked its opening:

"Twenty years ago, a little past the age of forty, I was living in a small apartment in New York City, working as a project manager for a consulting firm, wearing a jacket and tie to the office every day. It didn't feel good. I had never aspired to be a member of the corporate world, but somehow that's where I had ended up. I had little affection for the work I was doing and seldom experienced any feelings of pride or fulfillment. Rather, I felt like an impostor, obliged to feign interest and enthusiasm much of the time...Today I am a farmer, a grower of organic vegetables and herbs, and can honestly say that I am a happier man." (pps. 1-2.)

Kind of gives one hope, doesn't it?

Americans have a taste for nature writing that stretches back in a proud lineage, but less so in agricultural writing. Books about farming are too often of the "green acres" school-- as glossy and unreal as the seed catalog's miracle-grown wheelbarrow size tomatoes. What Keith Stewart, and his gifted illustrator-wife Flavia Bacaralla, have given us is not this; it's a rare, genuine memoir of a life bound up, even unexpectedly captured by the rocky and recalcitrant soil of a slatey upstate New York farm. A Long Way to a Tomato is part and equal to John Hersey, carefully grounded with details in sometimes painfully sharp focus, and part Wendell Berry, suddenly breaking from the mundane into the open sky. It is a brave, open and moving account of a place, man, a marriage, and community-- an American farm and farmer at a cross-roads. It could stand for the story of thousands of farms and farmers across the country who do the hard work, make a living, and keep the soul of our land alive.

A truly delightful read. Written with great care and concern for the world in which we live, Mr. Stewart has given all of us, and not only New Yorkers, a real taste for a different way of life and not necessarily a simpler one.

There is alot of information here about issues that affect us all; our food, the small farmer, the importance of eating local, genetic engineering, but most importantly, you have a real taste for the hard work and dedication that it takes to be a farmer and the long, arduous road that they travel to bring food to market. You will never look at a tomato in the same way again.

His stories are touching and heartfelt. I found myself crying for his dear friend, Kuri, a story that will stay with me for a long time. The messages are honest and thought-provoking. A primer for a more compassionate planet, this book is a must-read for people who ever wonder if they can make a difference.

We have a farmers' market here in Houston. We are a relatively new market with an unending quest for new growers, and two copies of Long Road are the staple of our "lending library". It is comprehensive, realistic and inspirational.

Keith Stewart gently prods us, especially those of us who live in urban areas, to become acutely aware of every bit of food we choose to eat: how it is grown, where, by whom, at what heavy physical and financial cost to the farmer and to society. The book is an engrossing essay about the author's difficult journey from being an unfulfilled middle aged city-dweller to becoming someone in touch with the acres he feels privileged to tend. Woven into the narrative is much wisdom about the choices we as consumers and as a nation have made (hugh subsidies to agribusiness that encourage production of unhealthy food heavily reliant on petrochemical fertilizers).

This book will be enjoyed by readers of all ages but should be required reading for teens, most of whom are unaware of the choices they may make when it comes to putting food into their young mouths.

As a bonus, the author suggests that that an informed electorate might still make it possible that our offspring will enjoy reasonably healthy ways to nourish their bodies and their souls.

This simple, beautiful story describes with perfect eloquence our elemental relationship with the planet by way of the food we eat. This book changed my life. If everyone read this book, we'd live in a much better world. It's wise and delicious from cover to cover.

I completely enjoyed this book. Mr. Stewart's writing is a wonderful blend of the practical and political aspects of how food is being produced in our country. His is an approach that respects the land as well as the consumer. He seems to me a talented and caring farmer as well as a talented writer. Ms. Bacarella's stunning wood cut illustrations complete this book's message about producing food that is raised with thought and love. If only our government felt the same. I feel fortunate to know that there are people like Mr. Stewart and Ms. Bacarella producing such fine food and art.

I first encountered Keith Stewart's writing in The Valley Table, the Hudson River Valley's magazine dedicated to the region's farms and foods. The essay, "A Day at the Market," detailed the amazingly intricate adventure that is selling organic vegetables at the farmer's market in New York City. What struck me about the essay was its underlying lyricism. Here the market day begins:

As we pull out of the driveway, the sky is full of stars and there's a new moon to the east cradling the old moon in its arms. At first light of dawn a hazy stillness lies over the land. There's hardly a vehicle on the road as we drive by fields of freshly mowed hay and shoulder-high corn. Shapes of cows loom on the crest of a dark hill. A red fox with an impressive bushy tail and determined gait crosses the road in front of us.

"Cradling the old moon in its arms": Stewart's writing is imbued with this kind of love for the land he works and the vegetables he harvests, as well as a keen understanding of the essential relation between the word and the natural world. I am reminded of Emerson's essay "Nature": "The greatest delight which the fields and woods minister is the suggestion of an occult relation between man and the vegetable..."

Reading "It's a Long Road to a Tomato," which includes "A Day at the Market," I discover that selling vegetables at the stand is the end of a long process of thought, labor, and dedication. Stewart takes us to his farm in Orange County, NY and reveals to us in each essay an aspect of farm life: the value of a good knife, the economics of maintaining a small organic farm, the importance of the sustainable farming community, the dance of the swallows nesting in the barn. I especially enjoyed the essays about the animals living on the farm. The tale of the rise and fall of Lazarus the rooster is one of the most touching episodes of chicken drama I've ever read.

I highly recommend "It's a Long Road To a Tomato," especially for those who enjoy the writing of Wendell Berry. It's an important and enjoyable book, and beautiful too: the essays are accompanied by the woodcuts of Stewart's wife, Flavia Bacarella.

This marvelous book should delight anyone with an interest in man's place in the natural world. Anyone that is, who is not a Fundamentalist! Who would imagine that starting an organic farm would entail facing up to life's existential issues on an almost daily basis. Stewart brings a sly humor to bear on what might otherwise be a rather humdrum topic, and does so with uncommon warmth and passion.