Wonderful and real novel about death. ( )

Andy Catlett is 9 years old when his beloved Uncle Andrew is killed in a shocking act of violence. Andy’s parents and grandparents are consumed with grief; Andy, too, tries to process what has happened but instinctively knows he cannot ask too many questions of the adults in his life. In this novella, the adult Andy remembers his uncle and attempts to understand who he was and the circumstances surrounding his tragic death.

A World Lost is part of Wendell Berry’s Port William series, set in a fictional Kentucky town with agriculture at its core. Most of the novels focus on one member of the community during a period in history, and in telling their story Berry also portrays a way of life that has largely been lost due to changes in farming. Port William is undoubtedly modeled on Berry’s hometown in Henry County, Kentucky. Andy Catlett appears to be the most autobiographical of his characters, and takes center stage in both A World Lost and Andy Catlett: Early Travels. Unfortunately, both of these books lack the richness and emotion I have experienced in Berry’s other novels. The themes explored in A World Lost might have had more impact written as a personal essay than semi-autobiographical fiction. ( )

In this fifth Berry novel, a man approaching sixty contemplates the murder of an uncle much earlier in his life — the reader seeing how it has affected him, family, and community members. The remembrances are presented as disembodied fragments in time. Herein, Berry considers man's violence and the ripple affects of the consequences.

In my view, this book is another example of first-class writing skills. ( )

The summer of 1944 finds nine-year-old Andy Catlett in the fictional town of Port William, occupied more with watching meadowlarks and dipping into the nearby spring than with the weary news of the day. But when his Uncle Andrew is murdered, Andy confronts his own sense of culpability for the senseless brawl that took his uncle’s life. Told from Andy’s perspective some fifty years later, the novel explores the gripping power of memory, even after decades have passed and asks each of us what in our own pasts we might have remedied.

Summary: Young Andy Catlett's life is forever changed the day his namesake Uncle Andrew is murdered, an event he spends a lifetime trying to understand.

Andy Catlett is nine years old on the summer day when his adored Uncle Andrew refused to take him on a job salvaging material from an old building. Otherwise it is a perfect day with a satisfying dinner with grandparents, meandering across farm fields, quenching his thirst at a cold spring, watching insects and a world alive, and swimming in a pond to cool off, even though it was forbidden. He arrives home that evening in 1944 to be told by his father that Uncle Andrew had been shot twice by the ill-tempered Carp Harmon. Shortly after he dies.

It is like a long swath of fabric being torn out of a favorite shirt for all of them, never to be repaired. He tells of being with his grandparents and father one night, all of them in tears as they think of what they've lost. And shortly after, grandfather dies. Andy's father no longer plays songs on their piano. We learn how close his disciplined, responsible father came to savage revenge. Something had been snatched out of their world that left it irreparably changed. As the title states, a world lost.

But who was the beloved uncle, brother, son, and why did Carp Harmon kill him? Andy spends the rest of his life trying to understand these things and this novel is his narrative of both discovery and lingering questions. Uncle Andrew was the strong, handsome ladies man who married into the town's elite, only to live in a loveless marriage with a hypochondriac wife and demanding mother-in-law. He struggled financially, drank too much, and was trying to put his life back together with his brother's help. This complicated man was the uncle Andy adored.

He interviews witnesses to the murder, reads news stories, and trial records. None of it fully makes sense and often seems contradictory. Even the accounts of whether Uncle Andrew had done anything to provoke the murder conflict. Letters in his father's effects, shed little more light. It was senseless, as all murder is senseless. He wonders sometimes if things would have been any different had he been with Uncle Andrew that day.

This is the narrative of any family who has suddenly lost someone by violent means. Life may go on but it can never be the same. We discover the complicated mystery of the one we have loved and lost, the shades of light and dark that comprise the portrait of a life, and the ambiguities that fail to resolve. We wrestle with making sense of the senseless--and fail. We carry our own private grief, guilt, perplexity, and trauma, hidden to the world but never far from mind.

Wendell Berry, in his measured way, unfolds this exploration of a world lost in the context of the Port William membership we've met in other novels. We have the familiar backdrop of the web of relations and the care of the family farms and the work that must be done that reminds us of the tension of darkness and life within which we live. Berry captures that tension in the narrator's concluding reflections:

"I imagine the dead waking, dazed, into a shadowless light in which they know themselves altogether for the first time. It is a light that is merciless until they can accept its mercy; by it they are at once condemned and redeemed. It is Hell until it is Heaven. Seeing themselves in that light, if they are willing, they see how far they have failed the only justice of loving one another; it punishes them by their own judgment. And yet, in suffering that light's awful clarity, in seeing themselves within it, they see its forgiveness and its beauty, and are consoled. In it they are loved completely, even as they have been, and so are changed into what they could not have been but what, if they could have imagined it, they would have wished to be.

"That light can come into this world only as love, and love can enter only by suffering. Not enough light has ever reached us here among the shadows, and yet I think it has never been entirely absent." ( )