This book offers a unique glimpse of Alaska and its creatures, rendered on paper by a man who loved and respected them. William D. Berry was nationally known as a wildlife artist, but to many Alaskans, he was also a kind of state treasure and certainly a natural resource. Berry's clear vision, conveyed with his disciplined skills, captured Alaska's creatures and their habitats in works that are both scientifically accurate and artistically compelling. From his childhood in the southwestern desert to the closing days of his life in the taiga forest of Alaska, Berry was absorbed by the diversity of living creatures with which he shared the world. Years of observation gave him a singular capability to perceive animals; years of study gave him an equally singular ability to convey them to observers through an array of artists' media. Fox cubs or caribou, his animals are what you might see--if you had his patience or powers of observation. Each fully rendered creature has its own character, presented with respect for its individuality as well as accuracy for its individuality as well as accuracy for its species characteristics. It is a privilege for the University of Alaska to bring this sampler of Bill Berry's private efforts from the 1950s before a wider audience. The book is grouped into four sections: Denali Park, color sketches, Point Hope, and around and about Alaska. Within each, the animals are in taxonomic order, the way Berry arranged and filed them. Berry's friend, zoologist William O Pruitt, once observed that this artist's field sketches were the equivalent of the scientist's field notes. Perhaps it is that honesty that makes his work a challenge to other artists who wish to capture the essence of animals and captivate viewers. It is surely one of the reasons that his sketches continue to please all who cherish wilderness.

The Shocking scandal of the Oklahoma Supreme Court.

“This is a book about Heaven,” says Jayber Crow, “but I must say too that . . . I have wondered sometimes if it would not finally turn out to be a book about Hell.” It is 1932 and he has returned to his native Port William to become the town's barber. Orphaned at age ten, Jayber Crow’s acquaintance with loneliness and want have made him a patient observer of the human animal, in both its goodness and frailty. He began his search as a “pre–ministerial student” at Pigeonville College. There, freedom met with new burdens and a young man needed more than a mirror to find himself. But the beginning of that finding was a short conversation with “Old Grit,” his profound professor of New Testament Greek. “You have been given questions to which you cannot be given answers. You will have to live them out—perhaps a little at a time.” “And how long is that going to take?” “I don't know. As long as you live, perhaps.” “That could be a long time.” “I will tell you a further mystery,” he said. “It may take longer.” Wendell Berry’s clear–sighted depiction of humanity’s gifts—love and loss, joy and despair—is seen though his intimate knowledge of the Port William Membership.

Nathan Coulter, Wendell Berry’s first book, was published in 1960 when he was twenty–seven. In his first novel, the author presents his readers with their first introduction to what would become Berry’s life’s work, chronicling through fiction a place where the inhabitants of Port William form what is more than community, but rather a “membership” in interrelatedness, a spiritual community, united by duty and bonds of affection for one another and for the land upon which they make their livelihood. When young Nathan loses his grandfather, Berry guides readers through the process of Nathan's grief, endearing the reader to the simple humanity through which Nathan views the world. Echoing Berry's own strongly held beliefs, Nathan tells us that his grandfather's life “couldn't be divided from the days he'd spent at work in his fields.” Berry has long been compared to Faulkner for his ability to erect entire communities in his fiction, and his heart and soul have always lived in Port William, Kentucky. In this eloquent novel about duty, community, and a sweeping love of the land, Berry gives readers a classic book that takes them to that storied place.

Hours after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, Japanese forces launched a devastating attack on U.S. troops in the Philippines. In May 1942, after months of battle with no reinforcements and no hope of victory, the remaining American forces, holed up on the tiny island of Corregidor, suffered a humiliating defeat, and 11,000 fighting men became prisoners of war in the largest American capitulation since Appomattox. Those lucky enough to survive the brutal conditions of their captivity remained imprisoned until General MacArthur returned to the Philippines in 1945.

Hannah Coulter is Wendell Berry’s seventh novel and his first to employ the voice of a woman character in its telling. Hannah, the now–elderly narrator, recounts the love she has for the land and for her community. She remembers each of her two husbands, and all places and community connections threatened by twentieth–century technologies. At risk is the whole culture of family farming, hope redeemed when her wayward and once lost grandson, Virgil, returns to his rural home place to work the farm.