Somehow I got it in my head that The Princess Academy by Shannon Hale was the basis for that Disney movie about an ordinary girl (Anne Hathaway, I think?) who is told she's a princess and taken away to learn how to be one. From what I could tell from the previews, Anne has all the usual lessons in deportment and ballroom dancing, and she ends up meeting the prince of her dreams.
Well, I was wrong.
The Princess Academy, indeed, does involve an ordinary girl who is taken away from her home to learn to be a princess. And Miri does study Conversation and Dancing in order to be ready for the ball when the prince will choose his future bride. But The Princess Academy teaches Miri more than these typical "girly" things; she also studies Commerce and Diplomacy, two subjects that she puts to good use to improve the lifestyle of her village. I really appreciated that Shannon Hale had her heroine (who is a very sympathetic and appealing character) break away from the "princess" stereotype that little girls are normally fed by popular culture. Oh, sure, Miri is fascinated by the beautiful dress the academy princess (the top student) will get to wear at the ball, and she also has a love interest, so the break from the stereotype is not a clean one. I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing. I'm not one of those feminists who think girls should reject all things feminine in order to avoid exploitation. But what I like is that Miri goes beyond the limits of the stereotype to use skills that girls often aren't encouraged to develop.
My favorite example was when Miri and the other girls use Diplomacy to regain entrance to the academy after they ran away to attend their village's festival. Instead of pouting their way back in, or promising they would never do such a thing again, the girls (led by Miri) bargain with the head of the academy by pointing out her unsatisfactory behavior, by admitting their own wrong, and by setting terms for settlement of the disagreement. All this was done in a respectful, assertive manner. What a great, empowering model for young girls!
I also liked the ingenuity Miri shows in figuring out the "quarry speech" of the village, as well as her bravery and unselfishness at the story's climax. She sounds too good to be true, doesn't she? But Hale manages to make Miri a real and believable character instead of a cardboard cutout of perfection. Normally, I don't push "princess" stories on my daughter; if she discovers them on her own, I don't forbid them, either. However, The Princess Academy is a princess story I am more than happy for her to read.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
I Meet Another "Strong" Woman
Last night, I finally finished reading The Tall Woman by Wilma Dykeman. It's taken me an unreasonably long time to finish the book, especially when you consider that it is my favorite genre - historical fiction set in the United States during the nineteenth century. More than that, it's about a topic that I enjoy reading - the life of an ordinary woman facing challenging circumstances. I'll talk more later about why I think it took me so long to read the book, but first I want to celebrate another "strong" woman - Lydia McQueen.
(spoiler alert!)
The book covers Lydia's life from when she first marries Mark McQueen until she dies of typhoid fever at age 50. Yes! She dies! I haven't read very many books in which the main character dies at the end. But her dying actually gives the author a chance to pull together what it was that made Lydia strong. Lydia was the heart of her community. When a woman needed help with the birth of a baby, Lydia would go to help. When people needed health care of any kind, Lydia would go and do whatever she could to help. If people needed food, or clothes, Lydia would help. More than just being charitable, though, Lydia was the driving force that brought education to the community. She used a gift entrusted to her by the town's alcoholic doctor to buy land to start the school, and later, when the school is burned by an arsonist, she is not above a little blackmail of the town's most powerful man (who is the book's villain) in order to get a replacement school.
It's not just her public face that makes Lydia strong, however. She faces a string of horrendous challenges in her personal life. Her mother is abducted and terrorized by "outriders" in the waning days of the Civil War, leaving her mentally broken. Lydia has a difficult birth with her first child, and since the doctor is too drunk to come help her, her aunt delivers the boy using the doctor's forceps. The boy suffers birth injury, making him slow to develop mentally and physically. Later, the boy, who is special to Lydia, dies of pneumonia. Lydia's husband, Mark, comes back from fighting in the Civil War full of hatred brought on by months in Andersonville prison. The only thing that eases his bitterness is a year-long trip out West, during which Lydia has complete responsibility for the upkeep of their farm and their young family. No matter how you define "strong," Lydia meets that definition.
So, why did it take me so long to read this book? Not to sound arrogant, but I think Wilma Dykeman kind of lost sight of the story once in a while and veered off into Lydia-worship (if that makes any sense). You know, I can't really identify Lydia's character flaw. Everybody has at least one. Hannah Fowler was socially awkward and would do anything to avoid having to be around a lot of people for any period of time. Kate in The Perilous Gard is a little too nosy for her own good and suffers an inferiority complex when it comes to her sister. Susanna in No Shame, No Fear and Forged in the Fire prematurely jumps to conclusions and clings to stubborn pride that very nearly costs her a relationship with the love of her life. But Lydia McQueen doesn't seem to have any flaws - she's always patient and giving, she's always a champion of education, she's always fair-minded in recognizing her prejudices and setting them aside. On the other hand, some other characters in the book are sort of cardboard cut-offs for the "dark side." Hamilton Nelson, the villain, doesn't seem to have any redeeming qualities; it makes you wonder how he got to be the wealthiest and most powerful man in town.
Another thing that bugged me was that the narrative sort of meandered all over the place. I tend to like plots that are tight and knit together well. That doesn't mean everything has to be really simple-minded and foreshadowed early on or I don't like the book. But I think an author can get too many threads going at once and end up with a tangled mess (to carry the metaphor on through). In this book, Dykeman is juggling the threads of the mystery of who the outriders were who attacked Lydia's family, the struggle to get the school, the need to heal Mark from the legacy of hatred the war left in him, the uneasy relationship between Lydia and Hamilton Nelson, the unfair treatment by the community of the isolated Bludsoe family -- those are the major plotlines I can think of. Then, of course, there are a number of subplots going on as well. That's a lot to manage. I guess I just felt that sometimes we the readers were being strung along on something that then is tied up neatly and quickly at the end.
That's not to say there weren't things I didn't like about the book. One of my favorites is the part when Lydia develops an admiration for a red-tailed hawk that is raiding her flock of chickens. She hopes that Mark won't kill the bird, which seems to her to symbolize the very freedom and pride of the natural world. Eventually, though, Mark does kill the hawk, and instead of flying into an irrational frenzy (which I'm afraid I might do), she doesn't say a word to him about it. It wouldn't do any good, and she couldn't explain to him why she felt that way. However, on her deathbed, when she's delirious with fever and saying her last words to Mark, she remembers the hawk and tells him, "I was always sorry we killed that red-tailed hawk." Some things just stay with you, buried deep under daily life, but not forgotten.
(spoiler alert!)
The book covers Lydia's life from when she first marries Mark McQueen until she dies of typhoid fever at age 50. Yes! She dies! I haven't read very many books in which the main character dies at the end. But her dying actually gives the author a chance to pull together what it was that made Lydia strong. Lydia was the heart of her community. When a woman needed help with the birth of a baby, Lydia would go to help. When people needed health care of any kind, Lydia would go and do whatever she could to help. If people needed food, or clothes, Lydia would help. More than just being charitable, though, Lydia was the driving force that brought education to the community. She used a gift entrusted to her by the town's alcoholic doctor to buy land to start the school, and later, when the school is burned by an arsonist, she is not above a little blackmail of the town's most powerful man (who is the book's villain) in order to get a replacement school.
It's not just her public face that makes Lydia strong, however. She faces a string of horrendous challenges in her personal life. Her mother is abducted and terrorized by "outriders" in the waning days of the Civil War, leaving her mentally broken. Lydia has a difficult birth with her first child, and since the doctor is too drunk to come help her, her aunt delivers the boy using the doctor's forceps. The boy suffers birth injury, making him slow to develop mentally and physically. Later, the boy, who is special to Lydia, dies of pneumonia. Lydia's husband, Mark, comes back from fighting in the Civil War full of hatred brought on by months in Andersonville prison. The only thing that eases his bitterness is a year-long trip out West, during which Lydia has complete responsibility for the upkeep of their farm and their young family. No matter how you define "strong," Lydia meets that definition.
So, why did it take me so long to read this book? Not to sound arrogant, but I think Wilma Dykeman kind of lost sight of the story once in a while and veered off into Lydia-worship (if that makes any sense). You know, I can't really identify Lydia's character flaw. Everybody has at least one. Hannah Fowler was socially awkward and would do anything to avoid having to be around a lot of people for any period of time. Kate in The Perilous Gard is a little too nosy for her own good and suffers an inferiority complex when it comes to her sister. Susanna in No Shame, No Fear and Forged in the Fire prematurely jumps to conclusions and clings to stubborn pride that very nearly costs her a relationship with the love of her life. But Lydia McQueen doesn't seem to have any flaws - she's always patient and giving, she's always a champion of education, she's always fair-minded in recognizing her prejudices and setting them aside. On the other hand, some other characters in the book are sort of cardboard cut-offs for the "dark side." Hamilton Nelson, the villain, doesn't seem to have any redeeming qualities; it makes you wonder how he got to be the wealthiest and most powerful man in town.
Another thing that bugged me was that the narrative sort of meandered all over the place. I tend to like plots that are tight and knit together well. That doesn't mean everything has to be really simple-minded and foreshadowed early on or I don't like the book. But I think an author can get too many threads going at once and end up with a tangled mess (to carry the metaphor on through). In this book, Dykeman is juggling the threads of the mystery of who the outriders were who attacked Lydia's family, the struggle to get the school, the need to heal Mark from the legacy of hatred the war left in him, the uneasy relationship between Lydia and Hamilton Nelson, the unfair treatment by the community of the isolated Bludsoe family -- those are the major plotlines I can think of. Then, of course, there are a number of subplots going on as well. That's a lot to manage. I guess I just felt that sometimes we the readers were being strung along on something that then is tied up neatly and quickly at the end.
That's not to say there weren't things I didn't like about the book. One of my favorites is the part when Lydia develops an admiration for a red-tailed hawk that is raiding her flock of chickens. She hopes that Mark won't kill the bird, which seems to her to symbolize the very freedom and pride of the natural world. Eventually, though, Mark does kill the hawk, and instead of flying into an irrational frenzy (which I'm afraid I might do), she doesn't say a word to him about it. It wouldn't do any good, and she couldn't explain to him why she felt that way. However, on her deathbed, when she's delirious with fever and saying her last words to Mark, she remembers the hawk and tells him, "I was always sorry we killed that red-tailed hawk." Some things just stay with you, buried deep under daily life, but not forgotten.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Fading into Obscurity
I've written about this topic before, but the poignancy of the idea really came home to me last night as I finished The Big Knives by Bruce Lancaster. It's sad to me to see a book slowly fade out of popular culture (only three used copies of The Big Knives are available on Amazon). It's even sadder when the book is historical fiction and the subject of the book is being forgotten - maybe for good.
The Big Knives is the story of George Rogers Clark's campaign into the area that is now Illinois and Indiana during the Revolutionary War. With fewer than 200 men, Clark captured Kaskaskia and Cahokia with no resistance. When he heard that the British commander Henry Hamilton had taken Vincennes (a settlement along the Wasbash River), Clark marched his small army across Illinois in mid-winter to re-take Vincennes. Besides the cold weather one would expect of a mid-winter campaign, Clark's men also dealt with flood waters (sometimes up to their shoulders) and toward the end, a lack of food. Yet Clark apparently had the personal magnetism and leadership to inspire his men to keep going. Thanks to Clark's ability to bluff - and the marksmanship of his Kentucky and Virginia volunteers - within days of the Americans' arrival at Vincennes, Hamilton agreed to unconditional surrender. This gave the young United States control of land area equal to that of the original thirteen colonies. What makes this more impressive is that Clark was only 25 at the time. As the historical epilogue to The Big Knives points out, "Clark's actions in the Ohio Region during the Revolution were vital to the ultimate success of the American cause."
However, as the epilogue also notes, "His country has almost forgotten him." That was written in 1964, and I'm afraid the situation hasn't improved in the 45 years since. Now, maybe my education was inadequate, but I never heard of George Rogers Clark in any of my history classes, high school or college. Granted, I didn't take a course that focused on the American Revolution; surely Clark gets his due in such courses. But I think my point is still valid. For the majority of the American public, George Rogers Clark is forgotten - and I think that's so sad.
Originally, I planned to read this book one time and then get rid of it. It's one my son picked up at a discard sale from his school library, and it's not in the greatest shape (as you might expect after years of service in a high school library!). The book also didn't especially grab me - it had a lot of detail about the business end of the campaign, which was mildly interesting to me as part of the history but which didn't seem all that important to the plot. Finally, I thought Lancaster had some "hero worship" of Clark going on, and that just seemed silly.
Then I Googled Clark to see how much of the story was true and how much was Lancaster's embellishment -- and I found out very little of it was embellishment! Clark deserved the adulation! That changed my attitude toward the book completely. I'm going to keep it, mainly because I want to do my part to keep Clark's memory from disappearing. Maybe someday when my grandchildren are cleaning out my house, they'll find this book, and maybe one of them will read it -- and George Rogers Clark and Lancaster's telling of his tale will live on.
The Big Knives is the story of George Rogers Clark's campaign into the area that is now Illinois and Indiana during the Revolutionary War. With fewer than 200 men, Clark captured Kaskaskia and Cahokia with no resistance. When he heard that the British commander Henry Hamilton had taken Vincennes (a settlement along the Wasbash River), Clark marched his small army across Illinois in mid-winter to re-take Vincennes. Besides the cold weather one would expect of a mid-winter campaign, Clark's men also dealt with flood waters (sometimes up to their shoulders) and toward the end, a lack of food. Yet Clark apparently had the personal magnetism and leadership to inspire his men to keep going. Thanks to Clark's ability to bluff - and the marksmanship of his Kentucky and Virginia volunteers - within days of the Americans' arrival at Vincennes, Hamilton agreed to unconditional surrender. This gave the young United States control of land area equal to that of the original thirteen colonies. What makes this more impressive is that Clark was only 25 at the time. As the historical epilogue to The Big Knives points out, "Clark's actions in the Ohio Region during the Revolution were vital to the ultimate success of the American cause."
However, as the epilogue also notes, "His country has almost forgotten him." That was written in 1964, and I'm afraid the situation hasn't improved in the 45 years since. Now, maybe my education was inadequate, but I never heard of George Rogers Clark in any of my history classes, high school or college. Granted, I didn't take a course that focused on the American Revolution; surely Clark gets his due in such courses. But I think my point is still valid. For the majority of the American public, George Rogers Clark is forgotten - and I think that's so sad.
Originally, I planned to read this book one time and then get rid of it. It's one my son picked up at a discard sale from his school library, and it's not in the greatest shape (as you might expect after years of service in a high school library!). The book also didn't especially grab me - it had a lot of detail about the business end of the campaign, which was mildly interesting to me as part of the history but which didn't seem all that important to the plot. Finally, I thought Lancaster had some "hero worship" of Clark going on, and that just seemed silly.
Then I Googled Clark to see how much of the story was true and how much was Lancaster's embellishment -- and I found out very little of it was embellishment! Clark deserved the adulation! That changed my attitude toward the book completely. I'm going to keep it, mainly because I want to do my part to keep Clark's memory from disappearing. Maybe someday when my grandchildren are cleaning out my house, they'll find this book, and maybe one of them will read it -- and George Rogers Clark and Lancaster's telling of his tale will live on.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Some Favorite Love Scenes
I'm still plugging along in The Big Knives (and I still think the cover with the woman on it is misleading), but I decided in honor of Valentine's Day I would look back at some of my favorite love scenes. I'm sure I'll think of others as soon as this is posted.
#10 - The Rough-Face Girl by Rafe Martin and David Shannon
Then they heard footsteps coming along the path, closer and closer. The entrance flap of the wigwam lifted up, and in stepped the Invisible Being.
And when he saw her sitting there he said, "At last we have been found out." Then, smiling kindly, he added, "And oh, my sister, but she is beautiful."
This is a picture-book retelling of the Cinderella story, but you develop such sympathy for the Rough-Face Girl that the moment when the Invisible Being acknowledges her as the woman he will marry is very satisfying.
#9 - The All-True Travels and Adventures of Lidie Newton by Jane Smiley
He could not believe his eyes at...our good fortune right there, big as life. After I put down the poultice and untied the horse, Thomas grabbed me about the waist and kissed me and spun me around. He kept saying, "I can't tell you how sure I was we'd have to backtrack! I didn't see any future her, I was as low as I've ever been, but now...!"
Well, how were we to know? At any rate, it was a splendid thing to feel my husband's arms and hands press against me and to lean into his chest and to hear his joyful voice in my ear, and to look into his face and have him put his fingers into my hair and take all the pins out, one by one, and then pause to put them carefully in the pocket of his shirt. Then I shook my hair out, and it fell to almost the middle of my skirt, and we went inside the cabin.
This is a marriage of convenience between a abolitionist pioneer in Kansas Territory and a plain "old maid" that grows to be more, though the Lidie's telling of their love is very restrained (which, to me, makes it even more intimate). Unfortunately, the marriage doesn't last long; shortly after this scene, Thomas is murdered.
#8 - Judith of France - Margaret Leighton
Already the figures crowding there were growing smaller. Above them all she could see Baudoin Bras-de-fer sitting his horse like a rock in the midst of a whirlpool, by some miracle keeping order in all the confused and desperate haste.
Across the glittering surface of the water their glances met -- and held. Something caught sharply in Judith's throat. A small, desperate voice - was it her own? - was whispering "No! No! No!" to the lift and fall of the oars that were carryng her away. Inexorably the distance widened, nevertheless, and she raised her hand in a hopeless little gesture of farewell.
She saw surprise in Baudoin's face. Slowly, with his bright, intent gaze still holding hers, he lifted his hand to his helmet in an answering salute.
I didn't say they were all happy scenes.
#7 - These Happy Golden Years - Laura Ingalls Wilder
Laura opened the small package that Almanzo gave her. The white paper unfolded; there was a white box inside. She lifted its lid. There in a nest of soft white cotton lay a gold bar pin. On its flat surface was etched a little house, and before it along the bar lay a tiny lake, and a spray of grasses and leaves.
"Oh, it's beautiful," she breathed. "Thank you!"
"Can't you thank a fellow better than that?" he asked, and then he put his arms around her while Laura kissed him and whispered, "I am glad you came back."
Almanzo, you rascal!!
#6 - The Edge of Time - Loula Grace Erdman
"Well, I must be going. Good-by, Bethany."
He took her in his arms and kissed her, gently, as if he meant to be gone only a little while. Then his arms tightened around her, and he kissed her several times -- roughly, so that she knew that is she said one little word, maybe, or let one tear slip down her face, he might not leave her at all.
She did not say the word, shed the tear.
"Good-by," she said. "Don't worry - I'll get along fine."
She drew back just a little, but enough so that he remembered it was time to go.
He left her there, beside the dugout door. She watched him ride away; she continued to watch him, waving to him each time he turned to look back. And when he had at last disappeared into the vast reaches of the plains, she went back inside. She threw herself down across the bed and cried for a long time. After that she felt better.
This book is not that well-known, but I can see a HUGE influence on my own writing.
#5 - Hannah Fowler - Janice Holt Giles
He thought how it was you learned so much about somebody when you lived with them, things they never even knew themselves, likely, and how it made them so much closer - like a youngun of your own flesh and blood -- sweet, somehow, and kin. Like the way Hannah had of being shy and awkward before folks, sometimes even with him....And for all her bigness and smartness, she liked it best when he was some place handy. She never would say so...but when you got to know her you could tell the difference in the look on her face when she was contented and when she wasn't. She didn't know how her face changed when he came in and told her he had to go off somewhere. Not that she would ever say one word against it. She would get busy and fix him a bait to take...get him ready to go, not even knowing that the shine of her eyes had dulled and a little line between them had puckered. It made him wish he never had to go.
I like this one because it is from the male point of view.
#4 - Ruth 3:7-10
When Boaz had finished eating and drinking and was in good spirits, he went over to lie down at the far end of the grain pile. Ruth approached quietly, uncovered his feet and lay down. In the middle of the night something startled the man, and he turned and discovered a woman lying at his feet.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I am your servant Ruth," she said. "Spread the corner of your garment over me, since you are a kinsman-redeemer."
"The Lord bless you, my daughter," he replied. "This kindness is greater than that which you showed earlier. You have not run after the younger men, whether rich or poor. And now, my daughter, don't be afraid. I will do for you all you ask."
Ruth took quite a risk, but Boaz is just a really good man.
#3 - The Witch of Blackbird Pond - Elizabeth George Speare
"Hold a minute, Captain!" called a voice. A commotion near the door had been scarcely noticed. "There's a fellow here says he has an important witness for the case."
Every voice was suddenly stilled. Almost paralyzed with dread, Kit turned slowly to face a new accuser. On the threshold of the room stood Nat Eaton, slim, straight-shouldered, without a trace of mockery in his level blue eyes.
What could be more romantic than having the man you love show up to save you from being burned as a witch?
#2 - The Perilous Gard - Elizabeth Marie Pope
"You're not talking," said Christopher. "Go on talking."
"What do you want me to talk of?" asked Kate helplessly.
"I don't care," said Christopher. "Whatever you like. Anything. Only talk."
Kate cast wildly around in her mind for the 'anything,' wishing more than ever that it was her father who was sitting there, her father or Master Roger or the Lady Elizabeth or Alicia. Surely that was the least God could have done for him, the very least.
"Christopher," she blurted out, "do you ever think about food?"
I was charmed by the way Christopher and Kate fall in love by talking. They can't see each other at all, so their whole relationship is built on their talking.
#1 - Forged in the Fire - Ann Turnbull
We heard faintly, from a neighboring street, the nightwatchman's call: "Nine o'clock, and all's well!"
I broke free then. I went to the window and stood with my back to Will, looking out at the yard and passageway. Snow lay thick on the ground, and big soft flakes fell steadily against the window and built up on the ledge, cocooning us.
"If I'm to get home..." I began.
He came and stood behind me, put his hands on my arms, kissed the nape of my neck.
"Don't go," he said. "Stay with me, Susanna. Please."
Ok, so this is traditional romantic stuff. I'm still a sucker for it.
#10 - The Rough-Face Girl by Rafe Martin and David Shannon
Then they heard footsteps coming along the path, closer and closer. The entrance flap of the wigwam lifted up, and in stepped the Invisible Being.
And when he saw her sitting there he said, "At last we have been found out." Then, smiling kindly, he added, "And oh, my sister, but she is beautiful."
This is a picture-book retelling of the Cinderella story, but you develop such sympathy for the Rough-Face Girl that the moment when the Invisible Being acknowledges her as the woman he will marry is very satisfying.
#9 - The All-True Travels and Adventures of Lidie Newton by Jane Smiley
He could not believe his eyes at...our good fortune right there, big as life. After I put down the poultice and untied the horse, Thomas grabbed me about the waist and kissed me and spun me around. He kept saying, "I can't tell you how sure I was we'd have to backtrack! I didn't see any future her, I was as low as I've ever been, but now...!"
Well, how were we to know? At any rate, it was a splendid thing to feel my husband's arms and hands press against me and to lean into his chest and to hear his joyful voice in my ear, and to look into his face and have him put his fingers into my hair and take all the pins out, one by one, and then pause to put them carefully in the pocket of his shirt. Then I shook my hair out, and it fell to almost the middle of my skirt, and we went inside the cabin.
This is a marriage of convenience between a abolitionist pioneer in Kansas Territory and a plain "old maid" that grows to be more, though the Lidie's telling of their love is very restrained (which, to me, makes it even more intimate). Unfortunately, the marriage doesn't last long; shortly after this scene, Thomas is murdered.
#8 - Judith of France - Margaret Leighton
Already the figures crowding there were growing smaller. Above them all she could see Baudoin Bras-de-fer sitting his horse like a rock in the midst of a whirlpool, by some miracle keeping order in all the confused and desperate haste.
Across the glittering surface of the water their glances met -- and held. Something caught sharply in Judith's throat. A small, desperate voice - was it her own? - was whispering "No! No! No!" to the lift and fall of the oars that were carryng her away. Inexorably the distance widened, nevertheless, and she raised her hand in a hopeless little gesture of farewell.
She saw surprise in Baudoin's face. Slowly, with his bright, intent gaze still holding hers, he lifted his hand to his helmet in an answering salute.
I didn't say they were all happy scenes.
#7 - These Happy Golden Years - Laura Ingalls Wilder
Laura opened the small package that Almanzo gave her. The white paper unfolded; there was a white box inside. She lifted its lid. There in a nest of soft white cotton lay a gold bar pin. On its flat surface was etched a little house, and before it along the bar lay a tiny lake, and a spray of grasses and leaves.
"Oh, it's beautiful," she breathed. "Thank you!"
"Can't you thank a fellow better than that?" he asked, and then he put his arms around her while Laura kissed him and whispered, "I am glad you came back."
Almanzo, you rascal!!
#6 - The Edge of Time - Loula Grace Erdman
"Well, I must be going. Good-by, Bethany."
He took her in his arms and kissed her, gently, as if he meant to be gone only a little while. Then his arms tightened around her, and he kissed her several times -- roughly, so that she knew that is she said one little word, maybe, or let one tear slip down her face, he might not leave her at all.
She did not say the word, shed the tear.
"Good-by," she said. "Don't worry - I'll get along fine."
She drew back just a little, but enough so that he remembered it was time to go.
He left her there, beside the dugout door. She watched him ride away; she continued to watch him, waving to him each time he turned to look back. And when he had at last disappeared into the vast reaches of the plains, she went back inside. She threw herself down across the bed and cried for a long time. After that she felt better.
This book is not that well-known, but I can see a HUGE influence on my own writing.
#5 - Hannah Fowler - Janice Holt Giles
He thought how it was you learned so much about somebody when you lived with them, things they never even knew themselves, likely, and how it made them so much closer - like a youngun of your own flesh and blood -- sweet, somehow, and kin. Like the way Hannah had of being shy and awkward before folks, sometimes even with him....And for all her bigness and smartness, she liked it best when he was some place handy. She never would say so...but when you got to know her you could tell the difference in the look on her face when she was contented and when she wasn't. She didn't know how her face changed when he came in and told her he had to go off somewhere. Not that she would ever say one word against it. She would get busy and fix him a bait to take...get him ready to go, not even knowing that the shine of her eyes had dulled and a little line between them had puckered. It made him wish he never had to go.
I like this one because it is from the male point of view.
#4 - Ruth 3:7-10
When Boaz had finished eating and drinking and was in good spirits, he went over to lie down at the far end of the grain pile. Ruth approached quietly, uncovered his feet and lay down. In the middle of the night something startled the man, and he turned and discovered a woman lying at his feet.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I am your servant Ruth," she said. "Spread the corner of your garment over me, since you are a kinsman-redeemer."
"The Lord bless you, my daughter," he replied. "This kindness is greater than that which you showed earlier. You have not run after the younger men, whether rich or poor. And now, my daughter, don't be afraid. I will do for you all you ask."
Ruth took quite a risk, but Boaz is just a really good man.
#3 - The Witch of Blackbird Pond - Elizabeth George Speare
"Hold a minute, Captain!" called a voice. A commotion near the door had been scarcely noticed. "There's a fellow here says he has an important witness for the case."
Every voice was suddenly stilled. Almost paralyzed with dread, Kit turned slowly to face a new accuser. On the threshold of the room stood Nat Eaton, slim, straight-shouldered, without a trace of mockery in his level blue eyes.
What could be more romantic than having the man you love show up to save you from being burned as a witch?
#2 - The Perilous Gard - Elizabeth Marie Pope
"You're not talking," said Christopher. "Go on talking."
"What do you want me to talk of?" asked Kate helplessly.
"I don't care," said Christopher. "Whatever you like. Anything. Only talk."
Kate cast wildly around in her mind for the 'anything,' wishing more than ever that it was her father who was sitting there, her father or Master Roger or the Lady Elizabeth or Alicia. Surely that was the least God could have done for him, the very least.
"Christopher," she blurted out, "do you ever think about food?"
I was charmed by the way Christopher and Kate fall in love by talking. They can't see each other at all, so their whole relationship is built on their talking.
#1 - Forged in the Fire - Ann Turnbull
We heard faintly, from a neighboring street, the nightwatchman's call: "Nine o'clock, and all's well!"
I broke free then. I went to the window and stood with my back to Will, looking out at the yard and passageway. Snow lay thick on the ground, and big soft flakes fell steadily against the window and built up on the ledge, cocooning us.
"If I'm to get home..." I began.
He came and stood behind me, put his hands on my arms, kissed the nape of my neck.
"Don't go," he said. "Stay with me, Susanna. Please."
Ok, so this is traditional romantic stuff. I'm still a sucker for it.
Monday, January 26, 2009
What's It Worth to You?
It came today - the used copy of Judith of France that I found online and paid $40 for (not counting shipping and handling). It's unreal in a couple of ways. First, after literally years of searching, I can't believe I own a copy of this book that made such an impression on me as a teenager. Secondly, I can't believe I would actually pay $40 for it, no matter how badly I wanted it.
On second thought, though, I don't blame myself. Buying the book online through a used book outlet is the only way to get it. It's been out of print for years. I understand that libraries have to purge some books from their shelves to make room for new acquistions, and it's only natural that something published in 1948 (that doesn't have the saving grace of being a Newberry winner like Johnny Tremain) is going to be one of those chosen to go. There might be a library somewhere that still has a copy on the shelves, and I might be able to find it through interlibrary loan, but then I can only keep it for two weeks or so. When you like a book the way I like this one, you're going to want to read it multiple times, and having to go through the process of interlibrary loan every time is a pain. So, I guess the question I had to ask myself is, what was it worth to me to be able to take this book off my shelf whenever I want, to be able to share it with my daughter and give her a chance to fall in love with it too?
At least $40!
On second thought, though, I don't blame myself. Buying the book online through a used book outlet is the only way to get it. It's been out of print for years. I understand that libraries have to purge some books from their shelves to make room for new acquistions, and it's only natural that something published in 1948 (that doesn't have the saving grace of being a Newberry winner like Johnny Tremain) is going to be one of those chosen to go. There might be a library somewhere that still has a copy on the shelves, and I might be able to find it through interlibrary loan, but then I can only keep it for two weeks or so. When you like a book the way I like this one, you're going to want to read it multiple times, and having to go through the process of interlibrary loan every time is a pain. So, I guess the question I had to ask myself is, what was it worth to me to be able to take this book off my shelf whenever I want, to be able to share it with my daughter and give her a chance to fall in love with it too?
At least $40!
Monday, January 19, 2009
Judging a Book by Its Cover
I'm currently reading The Big Knives by Bruce Lancaster, and over the weekend, I was adding it to my "I'm Reading" list on Facebook. During the process, I found something I thought was amusing, and I thought I'd share it.
The copy of the book I'm reading is a hardcover that my son picked up at a "purging" sale at his school library. The cover looks like this:
However, the only image I could find while I was uploading this book to my Facebook page was this one:
I ask you, does that even look like the same book????! After laughing for a while, I asked myself what would lead to a pair of covers that are so different. My conclusion (which may or may not be complete hooey) is that somewhere along the line, someone decided to market the book to a different audience - women instead of men.
The first cover is, as I said, for the hardcover edition that was published in 1964. The second is from a paperback reissue (by a different publisher) in 1978. The first cover, I think, has masculine appeal - we have a group of men in buckskins, obviously engaged in some kind of frontier military action or hunting, since their guns are prominent in the picture. The second cover looks a lot like a romance novel cover (a tame one, since both the man and woman are fully clothed, ha ha, albeit in clothes that are NOT accurate for the historical period). I doubt a man browsing in a bookstore would pick up that book with a woman in a hot pink dress. I asked my husband if he would read it, and he gave me one of those looks, which I took as a "no." (LOL)
I'm guessing that somewhere along the way between 1964 and 1978, someone decided women would be a more lucrative market for this book than men. Although I'm not finished with the book yet, I don't see how on earth that decision was made. I think this is very much a book with a "male" orientation (not that I am saying there are books for men and different books for women - not at all!). Actually, the main character, Markham Cape, reminds me strongly of Alex Rider from the juvenile spy series my son liked so much a couple of years ago, or maybe even James Bond transplanted to the American frontier. There's something cool and detached about him, which I see as traits in a literary character that appeal more to men than to women. I know as a reader I like characters much better when I can identify with them (something that may or may not be influenced by the fact that I'm a woman).
Anyway, I'm really mystified by this woman on the cover. I'm nearly halfway through the book, and there hasn't yet been a woman in the story who has been anything more than a temporary flirtation for Mr. Cape. I bet if you put every line about a woman together, they wouldn't fill two pages. So now I expect a major plot turn of some kind...or is this a case of a cover that would "hook" the female reader and then deceive her???
The copy of the book I'm reading is a hardcover that my son picked up at a "purging" sale at his school library. The cover looks like this:
However, the only image I could find while I was uploading this book to my Facebook page was this one:
I ask you, does that even look like the same book????! After laughing for a while, I asked myself what would lead to a pair of covers that are so different. My conclusion (which may or may not be complete hooey) is that somewhere along the line, someone decided to market the book to a different audience - women instead of men.
The first cover is, as I said, for the hardcover edition that was published in 1964. The second is from a paperback reissue (by a different publisher) in 1978. The first cover, I think, has masculine appeal - we have a group of men in buckskins, obviously engaged in some kind of frontier military action or hunting, since their guns are prominent in the picture. The second cover looks a lot like a romance novel cover (a tame one, since both the man and woman are fully clothed, ha ha, albeit in clothes that are NOT accurate for the historical period). I doubt a man browsing in a bookstore would pick up that book with a woman in a hot pink dress. I asked my husband if he would read it, and he gave me one of those looks, which I took as a "no." (LOL)
I'm guessing that somewhere along the way between 1964 and 1978, someone decided women would be a more lucrative market for this book than men. Although I'm not finished with the book yet, I don't see how on earth that decision was made. I think this is very much a book with a "male" orientation (not that I am saying there are books for men and different books for women - not at all!). Actually, the main character, Markham Cape, reminds me strongly of Alex Rider from the juvenile spy series my son liked so much a couple of years ago, or maybe even James Bond transplanted to the American frontier. There's something cool and detached about him, which I see as traits in a literary character that appeal more to men than to women. I know as a reader I like characters much better when I can identify with them (something that may or may not be influenced by the fact that I'm a woman).
Anyway, I'm really mystified by this woman on the cover. I'm nearly halfway through the book, and there hasn't yet been a woman in the story who has been anything more than a temporary flirtation for Mr. Cape. I bet if you put every line about a woman together, they wouldn't fill two pages. So now I expect a major plot turn of some kind...or is this a case of a cover that would "hook" the female reader and then deceive her???
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Virginia Woolf was on to something.....
You probably know the famous line from Virginia Woolf: "A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction." In a break from my usual reading fare, I recently finished a non-fiction work called A History of the Wife, by Marilyn Yalom. After following the history of wives from ancient Jewish and Greek civilizations to modern times, I think Virginia Woolf had it right, and I'm going to offer this paraphrase of her statement: "A woman must have money of her own and control of her own decisions before she can be truly productive."
As I was reading Yalom's book, I kept thinking of the other books I've read this year that featured women who were married, or who were trying to get married, and one in which the girl was trying to avoid getting married. With this post, I'd like to try to pull together some of those thoughts.
First, I'll talk about A Girl Named Disaster by Nancy Farmer. To be honest with you, it wasn't really my kind of book - I'm not a fan of the "man (or girl) against nature" type of story in which a girl has to struggle alone to survive against every kind of natural phenomenon you can imagine (think Julie of the Wolves or Island of the Blue Dolphins. Award-winning, but just not my thing). This particular version of that story is set in Africa, with the girl (Nhamo) running away to escape a forced marriage to a cruel older man with two other wives. Nhamo's grandmother comes up with the escape plan and gives Nhamo some gold nuggets to wear in a little package around her neck. The gold nuggets then disappear from the story until the very end, when the people who have rescued Nhamo from the wilderness find them. The character who tells Nhamo about finding the gold is a woman who is a scientist, and she advises Nhamo to start a bank account with the gold. She tells Nhamo her grandmother gave the gold to help Nhamo avoid the fate of every other girl in the village. The grandmother's wish is that Nhamo will not marry young and become a virtual slave, but that she will have a chance to get education and develop her mind so she can have choices in life.
As I was reading that, I realized how important a gift her grandmother had given Nhamo; by giving her money, she made it possible for Nhamo to have some control over what happened to her, instead of having to relinquish control to a husband in exchange for him supplying the food and shelter she needed to live.
That leads me to think about Hannah Fowler by Janice Holt Giles. Hannah finds herself in the opposite position to Nhamo. Hannah's father has died, leaving her in the Kentucky wilderness with nothing more than a few household goods. While Hannah is a big, strong woman who is probably capable of staking out her own claim and being successful in raising crops, she gives in to the social pressure that tells her a woman shouldn't even try to do that. Faced with a string of potential suitors who recognize the value of a woman's help in taming the wilderness, Hannah bows to the pressure - but on her own terms. She searches out the man who helped her and her father in the wilderness and, in a break with social tradition, asks him to marry her. Fortunately for Hannah, she's made a good choice, and Tice Fowler turns out to be exactly the kind of companion, lover, partner that women are looking for in marriage.
Those two cases would seem to give credibility to my paraphrase of Woolf's axiom - at least for the lower classes. Ironically, though, the more money a woman (or her birth family) had, the less likely she was to have control over who she would marry, for most of human history. Yalom's book gives a number of examples of upper-class women who were part of a marriage that was more an economic or political arrangement than a love match. It wasn't until the 18th century that the concept of romantic love and a heart's desire became factors in allowing people to choose marriage partners.
I hope this post doesn't come off as cynical. I think most women, like Hannah Fowler, are willing or even glad to give up some of their self-determination to gain the benefits of marriage (myself included). But I also admire Nhamo's grandmother for providing the means to help put Nhamo in a position where she could choose to marry at some point in the future -- or not.
As I was reading Yalom's book, I kept thinking of the other books I've read this year that featured women who were married, or who were trying to get married, and one in which the girl was trying to avoid getting married. With this post, I'd like to try to pull together some of those thoughts.
First, I'll talk about A Girl Named Disaster by Nancy Farmer. To be honest with you, it wasn't really my kind of book - I'm not a fan of the "man (or girl) against nature" type of story in which a girl has to struggle alone to survive against every kind of natural phenomenon you can imagine (think Julie of the Wolves or Island of the Blue Dolphins. Award-winning, but just not my thing). This particular version of that story is set in Africa, with the girl (Nhamo) running away to escape a forced marriage to a cruel older man with two other wives. Nhamo's grandmother comes up with the escape plan and gives Nhamo some gold nuggets to wear in a little package around her neck. The gold nuggets then disappear from the story until the very end, when the people who have rescued Nhamo from the wilderness find them. The character who tells Nhamo about finding the gold is a woman who is a scientist, and she advises Nhamo to start a bank account with the gold. She tells Nhamo her grandmother gave the gold to help Nhamo avoid the fate of every other girl in the village. The grandmother's wish is that Nhamo will not marry young and become a virtual slave, but that she will have a chance to get education and develop her mind so she can have choices in life.
As I was reading that, I realized how important a gift her grandmother had given Nhamo; by giving her money, she made it possible for Nhamo to have some control over what happened to her, instead of having to relinquish control to a husband in exchange for him supplying the food and shelter she needed to live.
That leads me to think about Hannah Fowler by Janice Holt Giles. Hannah finds herself in the opposite position to Nhamo. Hannah's father has died, leaving her in the Kentucky wilderness with nothing more than a few household goods. While Hannah is a big, strong woman who is probably capable of staking out her own claim and being successful in raising crops, she gives in to the social pressure that tells her a woman shouldn't even try to do that. Faced with a string of potential suitors who recognize the value of a woman's help in taming the wilderness, Hannah bows to the pressure - but on her own terms. She searches out the man who helped her and her father in the wilderness and, in a break with social tradition, asks him to marry her. Fortunately for Hannah, she's made a good choice, and Tice Fowler turns out to be exactly the kind of companion, lover, partner that women are looking for in marriage.
Those two cases would seem to give credibility to my paraphrase of Woolf's axiom - at least for the lower classes. Ironically, though, the more money a woman (or her birth family) had, the less likely she was to have control over who she would marry, for most of human history. Yalom's book gives a number of examples of upper-class women who were part of a marriage that was more an economic or political arrangement than a love match. It wasn't until the 18th century that the concept of romantic love and a heart's desire became factors in allowing people to choose marriage partners.
I hope this post doesn't come off as cynical. I think most women, like Hannah Fowler, are willing or even glad to give up some of their self-determination to gain the benefits of marriage (myself included). But I also admire Nhamo's grandmother for providing the means to help put Nhamo in a position where she could choose to marry at some point in the future -- or not.
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