The Farmer Boy: The Story of Jacob — Themes and Context
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Isaac was an only son and inherited his father's great wealth.
Isaac and Rebekah had twin sons whose names were Esau and Jacob, and perhaps no brothers were ever more unlike in their dispositions. Esau grew up to be a hunter. Nothing pleased him so much as to take his bow and arrows and spend days away from home in the pursuit of deer, from whose flesh he made food which his father liked.
Among other customs of that time which seem strange to us now was that of rich men and their wives and their sons as well preparing food with their own hands, although it is done in the East to some extent in these days.
Abraham was certainly a rich man with a host of servants at command, yet the Bible tells us that Sarah, his wife, prepared with her own hands the food for the strangers who visited the patriarch as he sat in the door of his tent by the Oaks of Mamre. We can understand then that the sons of Isaac, who were even richer than his father, prepared food themselves.
Esau was looked upon as the older son and treated accordingly. There were certain privileges which by custom were given to oldest sons at their fathers' deaths, and these things constituted what was called a birthright. In addition to being treated as the older son Esau was also the favorite son of his father.
But Rebekah loved Jacob more than she did Esau. Jacob was of a much quieter disposition than his brother, living near his mother and probably spending much of his time with her. We may think of him as a man who liked to live in comfort and peace, hospitable to strangers, as was the custom of the country, yet all the time wishing, as he looked out over the flocks and herds, that his was to be an older brother's portion when they were divided.
The word Jacob means "supplanter," or one who takes the place of another, and Jacob acted up to the meaning of his name at the first opportunity. It came about in this way.
Jacob was cooking some food one day which smelt and looked very tempting to Esau when he came in hungry and tired to the point of exhaustion from one of his hunting trips. He asked his brother to give him some of this food, and Jacob, seeing a chance to acquire what he coveted, told him he would do so if he would give him his birthright in exchange for it. Probably Esau's hunger was more to him at the moment than any privileges he might have later in life, so he consented and the bargain was made.
After this there was a famine in the land where Isaac and his family lived, but Isaac did not go to Egypt to escape it as his father had done on a similar occasion. Instead, he took his family into the land of the Philistines and lived for a time at a place called Gerar.
Isaac grew so prosperous in Gerar that the Philistines envied him. They had filled up the wells which his father had dug years before, so Isaac, besides reopening them, dug others, about which there were many disputes. Then after a while Isaac took his family to Beersheba, and there God renewed to him the promises of future greatness which He had made to Abraham.
Both Isaac and Rebekah disapproved of the marriage Esau made with a woman of a neighboring tribe, but in spite of this Isaac loved him very dearly, and when he felt that he should not live much longer he wished to bestow a blessing or promise upon him. So he called Esau and asked him to go once more and get some of the meat he liked and cook it for him, telling him that when he brought it he would bless him.
Esau set out on his errand, but as soon as he had gone, Rebekah, who had overheard what Isaac had said, called Jacob, whom she loved more than she did Esau, and told him that now he had a chance to get the blessing instead of his brother, and showed him how it could be done.
Jacob was very fond of his mother; he wanted the blessing, but was afraid his father would detect the deception and that it would bring a curse instead of a blessing. But his mother told him she would take all the blame and then Jacob consented to do as she told him.
J. H. Willard's The Farmer Boy: The Story of Jacob opens not with Jacob himself but with a broad sketch of Abraham as a nomadic sheikh, establishing a pattern of explanatory framing that runs throughout the narrative. The author frequently pauses to clarify ancient customs—such as wealthy men preparing their own food—using phrases like "which seem strange to us now" to create a direct bridge between the biblical world and a young reader's experience. This editorial note focuses on how Willard's language and narrative voice shape the pacing, moving from measured, domestic scenes to moments of sudden crisis, and how the text's structure reflects its origins in a series of illustrated children's books.
Explanatory Voice and Cultural Bridging
Willard consistently interrupts the narrative to explain customs that might puzzle his audience. When describing how Sarah prepared food for strangers, he adds: "We can understand then that the sons of Isaac, who were even richer than his father, prepared food themselves." This rhetorical move—using "we" to include the reader in a shared act of understanding—is a hallmark of the book's voice. The author also translates terms like "sheikh" and glosses the concept of birthright with a brief definition. These explanations are not footnotes but are woven into the prose, slowing the pace but ensuring clarity. The effect is a tone that is patient and pedagogical, treating the biblical story as a foreign culture that requires careful introduction.
Pacing: From Domestic Quiet to Abrupt Crisis
The narrative moves in distinct blocks. Early chapters dwell on Jacob's quiet, domestic life: he is "of a much quieter disposition than his brother," living near his mother and "probably spending much of his time with her." The language is unhurried, with phrases like "we may think of him" inviting reflection. But when the story reaches Joseph's betrayal, the pace accelerates sharply. The brothers "deliberately planned to kill their brother" and then sell him to merchants—events covered in a few sentences. This shift from reflective exposition to rapid action creates a stark contrast. The text does not dwell on Joseph's emotions; instead, it reports the sequence plainly. The result is a narrative that feels episodic, with moments of stillness giving way to sudden, decisive turns.
Repetition and Structural Patterns
Willard employs a recurring structural device: after each major crisis, he inserts a summarizing sentence that restores equilibrium. For example, after Joseph is sold, the text notes that "Potiphar was very kind to Joseph" and that he "rose to be the governor." Similarly, after Jacob mourns Joseph, the narrative resumes with "he and his sons lived on much as they had been doing." This pattern of disruption followed by a return to normalcy gives the book a rhythmic, almost cyclical feel. The author also uses illustrations as punctuation points—each chapter ends with a full-page image and a caption that distills the preceding action. These visual breaks reinforce the episodic structure, making the story feel like a series of discrete lessons rather than a continuous drama.
Readers attentive to voice will notice how Willard's explanatory asides and shifts in pace shape the moral landscape of the story. The book's language consistently prioritizes comprehension over dramatic tension, yet the abrupt transitions between quiet description and swift action create an undercurrent of instability. This tension between the patient teacher and the urgent storyteller gives The Farmer Boy a distinctive rhythm, one that rewards attention to how the narrative chooses to slow down or speed up.
Jacob’s quiet cunning in that farmer’s tale always reminds me of Ruth’s gentler daring, both choosing kinship when safety felt uncertain. The old text handles their waiting with such unhurried patience—domestic scenes swelling into crisis—yet never loses the human pulse. I’ve shelved The Bible, King James version, Book 8: Ruth — Story, Setting & Ideas beside it for years, two strangers who somehow nod to one another.
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