I don't know why but I've never liked Utopian stories, they always severely rub me the wrong way. This little book is only 166 pages, and Utopian/hippie vibe aside, was pretty charming. On the surface it seems like a communal, hippie place where the narrator (no name given) goes about his days "writing" (or planting seeds, napping and walking) but the story ends up going deeper into human nature. Love and betrayal. And lots of whiskey and trout. With singing tigers.
Even for the far out, probably pot-induced, setting, everything comes back down to human nature and our wonderful ability to really hurt the people around us.
Utopia will never work as long as people are involved. Maybe that's my problem with it.