Ryan Dennis

Last week (at the time of this writing), I gave an interview for an Irish farming website. They titled it “Can We Save the Family Farm?” Naturally, they meant in an Irish context.

The last year-and-a-half, I’ve gotten into the habit of starting emails in the same way, which is usually something like: “How’s life treating you, considering the end of the world? Hope you and yours are safe.”

My partner and I spent the first few months of the pandemic at my family’s farm in upstate New York. As far as places to wait out the apocalypse, it served us well.

Like the other 60 million viewers who watched the Netflix series Narcos, I was both elated and a little conflicted when the program reached the re-enactment of Pablo Escobar’s death.

Like many people this past year, I have gotten into the habit of looking ahead. Part of that is waiting for better days to come, and another part is to join into the collective speculation of what a post-pandemic world is going to look like.

The glitz. The glamor. The Guernseys.

There aren’t many individuals who stood at the intersection of fiction writing and farming.