Book Shelf: The New Farmer’s Almanac, a literary journal

Back in November, I mentioned something had flittered across my radar that looked interesting: The New Farmer’s Almanac (specifically the then-forthcoming Vol 7, Premonition), which appeared to be a cross between a literary journal and an old-school almanac. I had plans to hit up their booth at a local maker’s fair the weekend after Thanksgiving, but a few days ahead of that they reached out asking if they could send me a copy, which was an easy yes. It arrived around new year’s, and I’m here to tell you I’m very into it ... without having read the whole thing yet. Here’s why (on both counts) —

First off, The New Farmer’s Almanac is published by a group called Greenhorns, located in Maine, whose mission is to encourage young and would-be farmers to farm, and to do so ecologically. They offer resources, events, support and inspiration of varying kinds, and publishing a hefty and ambitious literary journal on an annual basis apparently fits into that mission. For all of that, they have my deepest respect right off the bat.

It’s a literary journal in the sense that it’s a collection of contributions in a variety of forms: essays, poems, interviews, artwork. There’s even a short story, doled out in 12 parts. The farmer’s almanac aspect is looser, and if you haven’t looked at one lately, or ever, the similarities might escape you. It does have a point of view (that we’re all on this Earth together and need to tend it, and each other, with care) and an intended audience (people who get that and want to do so). There are no weather reports or planting charts like you’d find in the Ol’ Almanac, but there are a few recipes and tutorials here and there, along with some loving nods to almanac classics, such as the matrix at the start of each “month” showing the day/date/moon phase and a sort of bemused “good day for ...” suggestion.

Beyond that, the content is divided into 12 chapters, each assigned a month and a loosely connective theme: January is Latency, February is Bulb. That’s as far as I’ve gotten because I find I want to spend the year dipping into it; I appreciate that the structure invites you to dole it out gradually and not rush through it. That said, I don’t have the sense that the content is particularly seasonal — you could read any or all of it at any time or in any order. (Meaning, there’s also no reason you need to have started it at the beginning of the year.)

January includes, among other tidbits: a thought-provoking essay on what a library is for (“If libraries didn’t exist and you proposed the idea today, people would think you were nuts. They would correctly identify it as a very radical idea: a state-run institution that holds property in common and lends it out for free to local residents, paid for via progressive taxation. ...”) and why we need to create more (and more kinds) of them, at the community level; a poem and a sort of story-poem; an interview with the executive director of Stationary Rail, in which I learned why there are hundreds of small towns all across rural America with abandoned train station buildings, and how they are trying to reconnect them (us); and the first installment in the aforementioned 12-part story.

There’s no question part of my attraction is to the book itself. It’s the sort of thing that just feels good in your hand. Paperback, uncoated stock, 400 pages thick, and peppered with four-color printed photos and illustrations, with a sort of folksy, unpretentious look about it. (The design reminds me a bit of the erstwhile Taproot, if you’re familiar with it.) It’s been a good companion so far on the odd cold night when I just want something short and inspiring to read before bed, rather than getting sucked into my phone, and I look forward to more of that throughout the year.

You can find out more about this issue and the previous six on their website.