Whenever a book is highly endorsed by some literary foundation, I personally meet it with some amount of skepticism, wary of what agenda the organization means to push with their selection. My reaction was no different when I heard about the One Book, One Bakersfield movement and the choice of “Epitaph for a Peach” as this year’s piece of literature. Upon reading the title and synopsis, I assumed it would be a memoir without substance, a weightless stroking of the nostalgia centers in our community’s supposed small-town mentality and values.
Instead, I was met with a floating journey through the psyche of a farmer who records the dichotomy of his profession with a functional brand of whispering prose. David Masumoto, the man who balances the need to make a living while saving a species of peach whose taste and texture belies its bland appearance.
To save his prized Sun Crest peach, he has made a decision to take up organic farming. With this choice, he will withdraw his stake in what he labels “modern farming”: which is characterized as working against nature. He begins his redefinition of work ethic by redefining the words “weed” and “pest.” Gone are the ugly sight of ramant growth and away with the sounds of disaster on buzzing wings. He refocuses his eyes and sees the beauty of wildflowers and pineapple grasses. He trains his ear to be an aficionado for the harmonies of a burgeoning ecosystem. Thus, he is working with nature.
He stresses though, that this is not the life for everyone and he takes the risk of organic farming because his family is well-established, and he can afford it. Never in his book does he try to force his lifestyle on anyone else. Masumoto has a gift for understanding all sides of a situation.
His invocation of the romanticism of the family farm is offset by the often humorous anecdotes on the frivolity and missteps he makes. “It is fun admitting that you don’t know what you’re doing. This is the freedom of naivetÇ.” In his admission of this lack of knowledge, he frees him self to experiment with his work habits, with varying degrees of success.
His admission of ignorance comes through long internal struggles that besiege his higher sense of purpose. He admits to his youthful dreams of infallibility and the gentle letdown of understanding that comes with time and experience.
One of the most poignant sections of the book lies in the latter half, where he reflects on his urge to attend UC Berkeley. He recalls those days, when he dreamed of leaving the Valley behind and setting the considerable weight of his intellect against the tribulations of modern life. He yearns for the time when he would return as the errant son and teach his friends and family about the more important worldly values of environment, arts, and society.
He eventually accomplished his goals of attending the university, but found a deeper truth under the folds haughtiness. As soon as he pulled into his parents’ driveway after some time spent at school, he transformed once again from student to son, his world view having not been permanently changed, only positively altered. Anyone who has spent a protracted amount of time away from home can relate to the feeling of having your ‘newfound lifelong paradigms unable to hold up against the weight of your family’s love and your own joy in the duty of returning it.
Masumoto finds balance in his personal quest for progressive thought and his desire to make a living out of his ancestors’ profession. This equilibrium is reached through the effort for salvation of his Sun Crests. They are the self-hung bait that is dangled in his face whenever he gets distracted by modern folly or impertinent tradition. The Sun Crest peach is his focus for a personal revolution.
A celebratory perspective on the nature of work and the gracefulness of labor is paramount to the appreciation of this book. “I can’t count the thousands of shovelfuls of earth I have moved in my life. But I like to think of the thousands that lie in my future, if I am fortunate,” he says during a passage outlining one of his many chores. This book is not about the success or failure of his peaches. It is about the strength, determination, and appreciation that it takes to understand what truly defines success or failure.
In thinking back to my preconceived notions about this book, I now see it not as part of a propaganda effort to homogenize some countrified edict that we use to reevaluate our lives. This is the Kern County Superintendent of School’s way of introducing us to Masumoto’s history of the emotions of hard work. It was their effort to help us recognize the traits and struggles of Masumoto, relate them to ourselves, and ultimately be entertained while doing it.