“The Long-Legged House” is Berry’s manifesto of his devotion to his place. The collection of essays was first published in 1969, five years after Berry returned to Port Royal, Kentucky with the intent of living there for the rest of his life (an intent that has been fulfilled to this day). The first six essays are more critical, addressing wrongs Berry identifies and placing himself in relation to and in light of those wrongs. Berry is stinging at several points, speaking against the war in Vietnam, the consumption of nature by those who do not care for it or know it, and the practice of strip-mining, to point to a few of his areas of focus.
I want to point out a few of his arguments found in “Some Thoughts on Citizenship and Conscience in Honor of Don Pratt.” Much of that essay shows Berry responding to the ills of our society, placing himself where he must. Particularly interesting is his analysis of American values, in which he argues that Americans tend to operate under a “lethargic assumption that a mythologized past can serve as some kind of moral goal that can effectively discipline the present” (95). He recognizes the insufficiency of that as a motive, choosing instead to commit himself to his place and on a more specific level, refusing abstraction. As he puts it elsewhere, “My devotions thins as it widens. I care more for my household than for the town of Port Royal, more for the town of Port Royal than for the County of Henry, more for the County of Henry than for the State of Kentucky, more for the State of Kentucky than for the United States of America” (90).
At the end of that essay, the sixth in the collection, Berry makes a hard break with the words, “What remains I commit to the earth” (106). The break is followed by three essays, each which deals specifically with his place and his story as it relates to each of the specific places: “The Rise,” which speaks of the river adjoining his land; the title essay “The Long Legged House,” which tells the story of his great uncle Curran Matthews and the house he built on the river, along with much more of his own biography; and “A Native Hill,” telling of the hill in his home place. Each of these essays are the reflections of a man who desires to know his place and belong to it. The essays to a large extent extrapolate on Berry’s wish to be a participant rather than an owner, to belong rather than possess. This is stated most explicitly in the title essay: “There is a startling reversal in our ordinary sense of things in the recognition that we are the belongings of the world, not its owners. The social convention of ownership must be qualified by this stern fact, and by the humility it implies, if we are not to be blinded altogether to where we are” (162).
While “The Long-Legged House” is not the perfect essay collection—some of the essays feel a little misplaced, and his language gets a little vague at a few points in the later essays—it’s a tremendous book to read for more insight into who Wendell Berry is and what drives him to commit to his place.