Archive | February 2021

Prairie Fires by Caroline Fraser

I just finished reading Prairie Fires: The American Dreams of Laura Ingalls Wilder by Caroline Fraser, and although I think the biographer has some underlying assumptions and biases about politics and history that I would not agree with, I still recommend the book. I thought it quite insightful, and it provided background and details that I did not know before about Ms. Wilder’s life.

The book spends as much time on the biography of Laura Ingalls Wilder’s only surviving child, Rose Lane Wilder, as it does on Laura’s life. Perhaps because their lives were so intertwined, the daughter and the mother come across as enmeshed in a somewhat dysfunctional relationship that nevertheless produced several wonderful and classic books. In spite of Rose’s mostly negative influence, Laura Ingalls Wilder’s philosophy of life shines through the books. Garth Williams, the second and most famous illustrator of the Little House books, wrote this about Ms. Wilder after meeting her on her farm in Missouri:

She understood the meaning of hardship and struggle, of joy and work, of shyness and bravery. She was never overcome by drabness or squalor. She never glamorized anything; yet she saw the loveliness in everything. 

Prairie Fires, p. 263-264

The same could not be said for her daughter.

In fact, even though I read A Wilder Rose: Rose Wilder Lane, Laura Ingalls Wilder, and their Little Houses by Susan Wittig Albert, a fictionalized account of Laura Ingalls Wilder and her daughter Rose and their somewhat stormy collaboration in writing the Little House books, and I knew that Rose was a difficult person, I didn’t really realize how very unstable she was. Fraser blames Rose’s outbursts and tantrums and trail of broken relationships on childhood trauma and possible mental illness. However, the childhood trauma rationale seems like an excuse rather than a reason. Laura Ingalls Wilder, the mother, endured much more and much worse than Rose ever did, and Laura, while not a perfect person, was certainly more mentally stable and plain likable than Rose ever was.

So, partly because of what I read in this biography, I am considering removing the two books (of three that he wrote) that I have in my library by Roger Lea MacBride, fictionalized sequels to the Little House books about Rose Wilder Lane’s childhood in Missouri. MacBride was Rose Wilder Lane’s protege and heir, and he seems to have been something of a sycophant and a leech. I don’t know that there’s anything wrong with his books, but I also don’t know that they are worth keeping. Perhaps I should pass them on to someone else. I haven’t read the books by MacBride, and since people occasionally ask for them and I got them donated, I added them to the library. But now, I’m wondering. Has anyone here read the MacBride books? Are they well written? Worth keeping?

At the Seven Stars by John and Patricia Beatty

If a reader wants to be immersed in the world of mid-eighteenth century London, with lexicographer Samuel Johnson, actor David Garrick, painter William Hogarth, Jacobites and Hanoverians, orphans, beggars, spies and even murder, At the Seven Stars would be just as immersive if not quite as wide-ranging as A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens. ( The main character of At the Seven Stars does make a brief, compelled visit to France.) The story begins in 1752 as fifteen year old impoverished and orphaned Richard Larkin, sent to London from the Pennsylvania Colony to live with his uncle who pre-deceases Richard’s arrival, discovers a three year old abandoned child, Abby, who is worse off than he is. And who should come along as unlikely savior but an ugly and monstrous old man, Mr. Johnson, who gives the young child a penny and also deigns to give young Richard some advice: go and apply for work at the Seven Stars, a nearby tavern. The Seven Stars seems to be a good place to work and a good place for little Abby to cosseted and cared for—until Richard inadvertently witnesses a political plot and even worse, a murder. Now where can Richard and Abigail find refuge from the spies and counter-spies and political intrigue that threaten their lives?

Central to the plot of this novel, which I would classify as Young Adult because of the age of the protagonist and because of the aforementioned murder (and subsequent violence and murder, which is described starkly but not gratuitously), is the Elibank Plot of 1752. You can look it up if you want, or just find out about it as you read the novel. The plot is engaging while not as fast-moving as a novel published in the twenty-first century might be. (At the Seven Stars was published in 1963, before the designation of YA became popular, and before attention spans were quite so much attenuated by various factors of modern life.) But the plot was not the most salient feature of the novel. The setting is so well realized that I found myself turning pages not to see what would happen so much as to read new revelations about what life and politics were like in 1752 London.

Recreated in full costume, are the lords and ladies, the street urchins, the men of arts and letters, who peopled the flowering of the Age of Reason. With cloak-and-dagger overtones, a history adventure that is vivid, authentic, and hard to put down.

We have tried to make our historical personages as real as it is possible to make them in every way–in speech, personality, views, action, and in their physical appearance in 1752.

The speech of the characters in this book has been re-created from eighteenth century literature and documents. Samuel Johnson, Hogarth, Garrick and the others, including the London cockney characters, actually would have spoken in the manner and used the words we have given them.

from the book jacket blurb, Foreword, and the Author’s Note at the end of the book

Patricia Beatty was a high school English teacher and author of tow previous books of historical fiction for children at the time of this novel’s publication, and her husband John was a college history and humanities professor, specializing in 17th and 18th century history. The couple combined their knowledge and talents, and their experience of living in London for a couple of years (1959-1960), to produce the verisimilitude and excitement of this spy novel which ends with neither the Jacobites nor the Hanoverians smelling too sweet. According to the depiction in this novel, the Jacobites were a nest of vipers, and the Hanoverians were even worse. A plague on both their houses!

Apparently, Samuel Johnson had Jacobite sympathies. Bonnie Prince Charlie, the hope of the Jacobites, died in Italy in 1788, deserted by his friends and allies and never having gained a throne. And the painter William Hogarth, who died in 1764 before the American Revolution was much more than a dim spark, was a friend and correspondent of none other than Benjamin Franklin. Actor David Garrick was a friend of Johnson’s and of Hogarth’s. Who knew? What side would you have taken in the politics of 1752? Jacobite or Hanoverian? Or well out of that frying pan and into the soon-to-be conflagration of the rebellious colonies?

Born on This Day: Ferdinand Magellan, 1480-1521

“You must realize, Fernao, that the ambitions of our expedition are not for one nation alone, but for the benefit of all mankind. The all-important factor, therefore, is not whether any individual nation, such as Portugal, will underwrite it, but which one will have the foresight to do it. Let’s make haste for Spain and see King Carlos.” ~Cartographer Ruy Faleiro, as imagined in the Landmark history book, Ferdinand Magellan: Master Mariner, after the King of Portugal turned down the opportunity to fund the two men in their attempt to circumnavigate the globe.

I wonder if Magellan was truly so patriotic as to wish to give the glory of circumnavigating the globe to his birth nation of Portugal and whether Mr. Faleiro was truly such an internationalist. Whether or no, it turns out that Faleiro did not accompany Magellan on his famous voyage, either because Faleiro’s horoscope warned him of danger and violence or because Mr. F went mad just before the expedition was to set sail. Either way he missed out on the voyage for “the benefit of all mankind”, and Magellan (and Spain) got the glory–and the danger.