In a recent magazine review of Uncultivated the reviewer latched onto a line I wrote in the seventh chapter, a chapter about running a small cider business. The line, “There is nothing worse than a sellout,” sounds as though I'm being curmudgeony when in actually the very next paragraph was about how homestead farmers need to make money too. The difference, however, should exempt limited small-scale farmers from suffering the same "sellout" stigma that greedy opportunists deserve. That’s because we are selling our products second, not first. The primary goal is to develop intimate relationships (like to our land, customers, and trees, for instance) but deep relationships thrive on the economy of limitations. The person with thousands of “Facebook friends”, for instance, is likely not devoting much time to meaningful friendships, and in the end it's Quantity or Quality. You can’t have your cake and eat it too.
But I’m afraid this view of business is increasingly becoming antiquated, like the extinction of aboriginal languages and the lifestyles of tribal people in the rain forest. Large-scale farming and monoculture are taking over and all you need to do is study live satellite photography to see the alarming speed of “limitless growth” and how it’s absorbing every last inch of undeveloped space (oh, the sad, sad irony.)
In a parallel universe, our “modern society” works against us too. It’s become increasingly incomprehensible that a person just does the things they love to do, or because they feel it’s the right thing to do. I recently stumbled across this blog (linked here) written 14 years ago, about the growing trend in the Millennial Era of “monetizing” that which was once sacred (art, personal relationships, or simply fun leisure activities.) Nowadays, some people look at everything as an opportunity of converting it into a money-making exploit. I like how the Seth’s Blog post ends: –maybe you will, one day, figure out how to achieve the much-heralded monetization. But if that’s your primary goal, the compromises you make along the way will likely cause your efforts to backfire. (But you got read the full article to learn how that is.)
In a parallel universe, our “modern society” works against us too. It’s become increasingly incomprehensible that a person just does the things they love to do, or because they feel it’s the right thing to do. I recently stumbled across this blog (linked here) written 14 years ago, about the growing trend in the Millennial Era of “monetizing” that which was once sacred (art, personal relationships, or simply fun leisure activities.) Nowadays, some people look at everything as an opportunity of converting it into a money-making exploit. I like how the Seth’s Blog post ends: –maybe you will, one day, figure out how to achieve the much-heralded monetization. But if that’s your primary goal, the compromises you make along the way will likely cause your efforts to backfire. (But you got read the full article to learn how that is.)
In all, I like the reviewer’s take on my book, and I will accept sounding like a curmudgeon even if the magazine overemphasized this voice. A lot of fellow cider makers, apple farmers, and especially “trade groups” have faulted me for being too critical (despite the irony) and say that I should be more supportive. Well, that’s where I know they are wrong! for it’s me that is the supportive one. If I can’t accept a compromised version of cider or personal cider farming then I am the one being an advocate for the future, not them. They are selling out cultures, ideals, and beauty all for the profit afforded by the actual mechanics of today’s efficient industry. They call it “being realistic.” But this is a culture we are involved with as cider-makers and apple farmers, we are not making plastic widgets to be sold as cheaply as possible. It's about art, agriculture, beauty, and personal relationships (real reasons for living!) And so for those who call me a curmudgeon let me remind you of something that perhaps you don’t realize: NOBODY loves art more than the art critic.
