Book Review: The Serviceberry

Dr. Jon Repole

Reflections on The Serviceberry: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World 

Every now and then, you come across something small and unexpected that lingers in your heart—like a whisper you didn’t know you needed to hear. That’s exactly how I felt after reading The Serviceberry: An Economy of Abundance by Robin Wall Kimmerer.

A close friend, whose wisdom and kindness are constant sources of inspiration, gave me a copy, knowing our shared reverence for all things Kosmic. I’m so grateful for this gift that keeps giving — a reminder that the most meaningful offerings often come from those who see us deeply and know just what will nourish our souls.

In just a handful of pages, Robin Wall Kimmerer offers a vision that feels both ancient and urgently relevant—a gentle but profound invitation to rethink how we live, give, and belong.

We live in a world of growing disconnection.

Disconnected from the Earth. Disconnected from one another. Disconnected, perhaps most profoundly, from any meaningful sense of “enough.”

Modern economic systems tell us that more is always better. That value lies in ownership, wealth lies in accumulation, and success is something we win—often at the expense of others. This story has shaped our cities, our institutions, our relationships, and even the way we perceive ourselves.

But what if there’s another story?

What if we could remember an older truth—one that sees economy not as a competition, but as a conversation between all living things? One that centers not scarcity, but abundance. Not extraction, but reciprocity.

This is the vision that Robin Wall Kimmerer invites us into in The Serviceberry: An Economy of Abundance. With a rare blend of scientific insight and Indigenous wisdom, Kimmerer offers us a radical (and ancient) reimagining of how we live, trade, share, and belong.

And it all begins with a tree.

The Serviceberry: A Quiet, Generous Teacher

The serviceberry is not a flashy fruit. It’s not cultivated on a mass scale, nor is it neatly stacked in produce aisles. It’s wild, native, and often overlooked. But Kimmerer sees it for what it truly is: a teacher.

She writes, “In the world of serviceberries, wealth means having enough to share and being ready to give.”

Every summer, the serviceberry tree bursts forth with fruit—not a little, not measured, but abundantly. The fruit ripens quickly and cannot be stored for long. And so, by its very nature, it resists commodification. It must be shared, eaten, celebrated now, in community.

No one hoards serviceberries. No one patents them. They belong to the deer, the bear, the birds, the humans. All at once. All together.

It’s a model that flies in the face of modern economics—and yet, feels intuitively true.

Rethinking What an Economy Is

Kimmerer’s writing gently challenges the core assumptions of capitalism—not to shame or scold, but to open our eyes to possibility. She doesn’t dismiss the usefulness of markets or money, but she questions what happens when those become the only metrics of value.

In her words: “Markets are good at generating wealth. Gift economies are good at generating relationships.”

That line is pivotal. Because somewhere along the way, we’ve confused wealth with wellness, and profit with progress. But what if an economy could do more than generate wealth? What if it could restore connection?

Drawing from Indigenous perspectives, Kimmerer reminds us that many cultures operated (and still do) on principles of gift economies. These aren’t primitive systems—they’re deeply relational ones. Built not on laws of supply and demand, but on trust, reciprocity, and kinship.

In a gift economy, value comes from the act of circulation. A gift gains power not when it’s kept, but when it’s given. When we hoard, we stagnate. When we share, we thrive.

This is not just economics—it’s ecology. The forest knows this. The river knows this. The serviceberry tree knows this.

The Myth of Scarcity and the Practice of Abundance

Scarcity is the story we’ve been sold. It fuels consumerism. It drives competition. It keeps us afraid—afraid of not having enough, of not being enough.

But Kimmerer offers an antidote.

“Abundance is a deeper understanding,” she writes. “It is the knowing that all flourishing is mutual.”

That line could change the world if we let it sink in.

Flourishing is mutual. It’s not something we can achieve alone. It emerges when we are part of a web—when we tend to one another, when we lift as we climb, when we give without fear that we’ll be left empty.

The serviceberry embodies this beautifully. It fruits for everyone, indiscriminately. It teaches us that the Earth gives freely—and we are invited not to exploit that, but to respond with gratitude and responsibility. This same invitation extends to our relationship with animals, too. Like the fruiting trees, animals have long been part of the shared abundance of the Earth—not as commodities to dominate, but as kin to honor. When we reduce living beings to products in industrial systems, we sever the very reciprocity that sustains life. The serviceberry reminds us that true abundance comes not from control, but from reverent relationship.

As Kimmerer writes, “All flourishing is mutual.” In this simple truth lies a revolutionary call: to flourish ourselves, we must allow all others—plant, animal, and human—to flourish alongside us.

A Global Lens: What Could This Mean for Society?

While Kimmerer grounds her reflections in the ecological world, the implications are far-reaching. What if we began to build economies, systems, and societies that operated more like a forest?

Here are just a few questions that The Serviceberry prompts us to ask on a global scale:

• Food systems: What if our food networks prioritized seasonal, local abundance and mutual aid instead of industrial profit margins?

• Housing: What if shelter was seen not as a commodity but a basic human right—and access to it was structured by care, not cost?

• Healthcare and education: What if these became gifts of the collective, invested in by communities who see well-being and knowledge as shared responsibilities?

• Climate action: What if we saw the Earth not as a “resource” to manage, but as a relative to protect—a source of life we owe everything to?

• Animals and agriculture: What if we recognized animals not as products, but as sentient beings—worthy of dignity and compassion? What if we reimagined our food systems to end factory farming and instead honored the lives we depend on with respect, restraint, and reciprocity?

This isn't idealism. It’s remembering.

Indigenous cultures have modeled this for centuries. And though colonialism and capitalism have tried to erase these frameworks, they’re still here. Still alive. And perhaps, more relevant than ever.

An Invitation to Live Differently—Now

What makes The Serviceberry so powerful is that it doesn’t just call for institutional change—it calls for personal reflection. It starts with us. Our choices. Our habits. Our worldview.

It asks:

• How do you define wealth?

• What do you share freely?

• Where do you still believe there isn’t enough?

• How might you participate in an economy of generosity?

You don’t have to overhaul your life to begin. You can start with something simple: giving a skill, cooking a meal, offering time, planting a tree, mentoring someone younger, bartering instead of buying, building something with your hands.

The more we practice these small acts of gift-giving, the more we stretch the edges of what's possible. We begin to form networks of trust—communities of enoughness. We begin to remember that we belong to something greater than ourselves.

Final Thoughts: A Seed for the Future

Robin Wall Kimmerer doesn’t offer an economic model so much as a seed. It’s a seed of imagination, rooted in ancient knowledge and watered by ecological wisdom. It won’t grow into skyscrapers or spreadsheets. It will grow into relationships. Into resilience. Into remembering.

She writes:
“The currency of a gift economy is relationship. Everyone whose hands have touched the gift contributes to its value.”

In the end, The Serviceberry is a love letter—to the Earth, to Indigenous ways of knowing, and to the human potential to live in harmony with both.

It reminds us that we are not meant to be consumers or competitors. We are meant to be kin. To give. To receive. To belong.

And that? That’s a revolution worth joining.

🌿 The Serviceberry Reflection Guide

“The currency of a gift economy is relationship. Everyone whose hands have touched the gift contributes to its value.”
— Robin Wall Kimmerer

1. Rethinking Value

• How do I currently define “wealth” in my life?

• What have I been taught to value most—and does that still feel true?

• In what ways do I experience richness that has nothing to do with money?

2. Scarcity vs. Abundance

• Where do I live from a place of scarcity (not enough time, energy, resources)?

• What would it feel like to shift those stories into ones of enoughness?

• What does true abundance mean to me?

3. The Gift Economy

• What are the gifts I carry that I often give freely? (Skills, wisdom, presence, joy?)

• Where in my life do I already participate in a “gift economy” without naming it as such?

• What is one small way I could share more intentionally—without expectation?

4. Belonging + Interconnection

• When do I feel most connected to nature? To others? To something larger than myself?

• What practices help me remember I’m part of a living web, not separate from it?

• What might it mean to center reciprocity in the way I live, work, and relate?

5. Inspired Action

• How can I bring the spirit of the serviceberry into my daily life or community?

6. Kinship with Animals

• How do I relate to the animals around me—both wild and domestic?

• Do I see animals as companions, resources, teachers, or something else?

• What might it look like to be in right relationship with animals—as fellow beings in a shared world?