Progress and the Wisdom of Pa

The Long Winter tells the amazing story of a prairie town's survival during a seven-month long winter of blizzards. Slowly, the isolated town on the treeless prairie begins to run out of food and fuel. It takes all the creativity that the pioneers possess just to keep alive.

Ma got up and put another stick of hay on the fire. When she lifted the stove lid, a reddish-yellow smoky light flared up and drove back the dark for a moment. Then the dark came back again. The wild screaming of the storm seemed louder and nearer in the dark.

"If only I had some grease I could fix some kind of a light," Ma considered. "We didn't lack for light when I was a girl, before this newfangled kerosene was ever hear of."

"That's so," said Pa. "These times are too progressive. Everything has changed too fast. Railroads and telegraph and kerosene and coal stoves--they're good things to have but the trouble is, folks get to depend on 'em."

I wonder what Pa would say about our society today?

Taken from:
Wilder, Laura Ingalls. The Long Winter (1940), p. 192.

Tea Time with Betsy-Tacy

This tea time passage is from the book Betsy-Tacy. It's a delightful scene where five-year-old Betsy and Tacy have dressed up in grownup clothes and have gone "calling" on a neighbour, Mrs. Benson. Being such a good neighbour (one that bought the coloured sand from the girls in an earlier chapter), Mrs. Benson plays along nicely by treating the girls as though they really were lady callers.

"I hear you bought some sand, Mrs. Benson," said Betsy in the grown-up tone.

"Yes, I did. Would you like to see it?" asked Mrs. Benson, and she went to her desk and brought out the two bottles full of sand which Betsy and Tacy had coloured, the perfume bottle with the blue coloured stopper and the big fat jar.

"Mercy, what beautiful sand!" said Betsy.

"Isn't it!" cried Mrs. Benson. "I bought it from two little girls named Betsy and Tacy."

Tacy looked up then, her blue eyes dancing into Mrs. Benson's. "I know those little girls," she said.

"I thought maybe you did," said Mrs. Benson.

After a minute Mrs. Benson asked, "Wouldn't you like some tea?"

"Tea?" asked Betsy, so surprised that she forgot to talk like her mother.

"Afternoon tea," explained Mrs. Benson. "What ladies drink when they go calling."

"Oh, of course," said Betsy. "I'd love some. Wouldn't you, Tacy?"

So Mrs. Benson gave them some tea... cambric tea, she called it, and it was delicious. They had cookies with their tea, and Betsy and Tacy nibbled them daintily. But they ate them to the very last crumb.

Taken from:
Lovelace, Maud Hart. Betsy-Tacy (1940), p. 78-79.

Why I am Terrified of Leeches

I blame it all on Laura Ingalls Wilder's book, On the Banks of Plum Creek.

But without further preamble, here is the passage where Laura first discovers those horrible creatures...

Mary would not go into the dark water under the plum trees. The creek bottom was muddy there and she did not like to wade in mud. So she sat on the bank while Laura waded into the thicket.

The water was still there, with old leaves floating on its edges. The mud squelched between Laura's toes and came up in clouds till she could not see the bottom. The air smelled old and musty. So Laura turned around and waded back into the clean water and the sunshine.

There seemed to be some blobs of mud on her legs and feet. She splashed the clear water over them to wash them off. But they did not wash off. Her hand could not scrape them off.

They were the color of mud, they were soft like mud. But they stuck as tight as Laura's skin.

Laura screamed. She stood there screaming, "Oh, Mary, Mary! Come! Quick!"

Mary came, but she would not touch those horrible things. She said they were worms. Worms made her sick. Laura felt sicker than Mary, but it was more awful to have those things on her than it was to touch them. She took hold of one, she dug her fingernails into it, and pulled.

The thing stretched out long, and longer, and longer, and still it hung on.

"Oh don't! Oh don't! Oh, you'll pull it in two!" Mary said. But Laura pulled it out longer, till it came off. Blood tricked down her leg from the place where it had been.

One by one, Laura pulled those things off. A little trickle of blood ran down where each one let go.

Laura did not feel like playing any more.

I don't blame Laura. After that experience, I wouldn't want to play either.

Of course, the chapter isn't over. Laura goes home to discover exactly what those things are...

Ma said they were leeches and that doctors put them on sick people. But Pa called them bloodsuckers. He said they lived in the mud, in dark, still places in the water.

"I don't like them," Laura said.

"Then stay out of the mud, flutterbudget," said Pa. "If you don't want trouble, don't go looking for it."

And that is the reason why I am terrified of leeches. Not that I've actually had a whole lot of experience with leeches. But, that's probably because I've taken Pa's good advice...

(Oh, and my fear was probably reinforced by the movie, Stand By Me.)

Taken from:
Wilder, Laura Ingalls. On the Banks of Plum Creek (1937), p. 136-139.

How did I rate this book? Excellent book! (Despite the leeches)

That's Irony, Disney-style

Irony is one of those words that people find difficult to define. Usually it's easier to give an example. And, when I come across a good example of irony, I like to make note of it.

In this case, this example of irony comes from a side bar in a travel book for, of all places, Walt Disney World in Florida...

Fascinating Fact

Natural pest management is used throughout Walt Disney World. Disney releases 250,000 warrior insects--they get rid of harmful pests--each year, and even allows guests to take part via the Ladybug Release at Epcot. Interestingly enough, feral cats also roam Disney property, working hard to keep the rodent population down. Look out, Mickey!

Image that; having to keep the rodent population at bay in a place that owes its fame and very existence to a... mouse.

Taken from:
Veness, Susan. The Hidden Magic of Walt Disney World (2009), p. 78.

Tea Time with Mma Ramotswe

Here is an exchange between Mma Makutsi and Mma Ramotswe about tea pots. It's a passage like this one that makes me want to make my own pot of tea...

Mma Makutsi put on the kettle, her accustomed task, and lined up the two teapots at the ready.

"Be sure to use the big one for the ordinary tea," said Mma Ramotswe from the other side of the room. "That would be best."

Mma Makutsi hesitated. "But it is the one you have always used," she ventured. "I do not want to change things..."

Mma Ramotswe was insistent. "No, Mma. We have already discussed this. I am happy with that small teapot for my red bush tea. I am happy to change."

Taken from:
McCall Smith, Alexander. The Double Comfort Safari Club (2010), p. 200.

Well Known Character Traits

Alexander McCall Smith delights us with his latest installment of The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series. (And by latest, I don't mean it's dead!)

Whether we have known Mma Ramotswe for ten books prior to this one, or are a newcomer to the series, these two selections can be enjoyed... not just for an insight into Mma Ramotswe's character, but for pure literary enjoyment...

Let's begin with the opening chapter of the book. Oddly enough, Mma Ramotswe doesn't even make a physical appearance in this chapter. And yet, she is present, even if just in the thoughts of her husband, Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni...

He had very few criticisms to make of Precious Ramotswe, his wife and founder of the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency, but if one were to make a list of her faults--which would be a minuscule document, barely visible, indeed, to the naked eye--one would perhaps have to include a tendency (only a slight tendency, of course) to claim that things that she happened to believe were well known. This phrase gave these beliefs a sort of unassailable authority, the status that went with facts that all right-thinking people would readily acknowledge--such as the fact that the sun rose in the east, over the undulating canopy of acacia that stretched along Botswana's border, over the waters of the great Limpopo River itself that now, at the height of the rainy season, flowed deep and fast towards the ocean half a continent away... All these facts were indeed both incontestable and well known; whereas Mma Ramotswe's pronouncements, to which she attributed the special status of being well known, were often, rather, statements of opinion. There was a difference, thought Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni, but it was not one he was planning to point out; there were some things, after all, that it was not helpful for a husband to say to his wife, and that, he thought, was probably one of them.

We get a demonstration of this later in Chapter 14. Not from Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni's point of view this time, but from that of Mma Makutsi.

[Mma Makutsi] also navigated--which was not an exacting task given that the road to Francistown, which marked the end of the first leg of the journey, ran straight and true from Gaborone northwards and neither meandered nor diverted. "You go straight here, Mma," said Mma Makutsi. "That sign over there says Francistown. That is the route to take." Mma Ramotswe nodded. "Yes," she said. "These are good signs, don't you think Mma? They make it quite clear which way you should go."

Mma Makutsi, interpreting this as veiled criticism of her navigating, searched for an objection to this remark. "But what if there is a blind person?" she challenged. "What use would they be then?

"But a blind person shouldn't be driving," said Mma Ramotswe. And added, as if the matter required further resolution, "That is well known, Mma."

There could be no answer to that, and the subject was closed.

Taken from:
McCall Smith, Alexander. The Double Comfort Safari Club (2010), pp. 3-4; 156.

How did I rate this book? Another satisfying read from The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency!

Narration Interrupted

In third-person narration, sometimes you get a narrator with a distinct personality, even if the narrator is not really a character in the book.

As is the case with The Wonderful Garden by E. Nesbit. The narrator (or perhaps the author herself?) pops her head in every now and again to give her two cents.

In the two selections below, the narrator's intrusion primarily helps us with characterization... particularly of two minor characters.

In the first selection, Caroline (one of the children) is trying work through a dilemma. She approaches the vicar of the church: a Mr. Penfold. You'll see the narrator pop in near the end of this verbal exchange, just to let us know that Mr. Penfold is going to be one of the good guys in the story.

"You're a clergyman, and so I suppose you know all about right and wrong?"

"I do my best to know," he said. "Well?"

"Well, aren't there some secrets you ought to keep, even if you know that some people would say you oughtn't to if they were to know you were keeping them--only of course they don't?"

I think it was rather clever of Mr. Penfold to understand this; but he did.

From good guys to bad guys now. The next selection is where the children are trying to speak with Lord Andore, but they are rebuffed at the door...

And then the cap disappeared only to reappear a moment later at the lodge door, on the head of a very angry old lady with a very sharp long nose, who might have been Mrs. Wilmington's grandmother.

"Out you go, the way you came," she said; "that's the order. What do you want, anyhow?"

"We've got a bouquet for Lord Andore," said Caroline, showing it.

"Keep it till the fifteenth," said the woman; a silly thing to say, for no bouquet will keep a fortnight. "No village people admitted till the gala and fete when his lordship comes of age. You can come then. Out you go. I've no patience," she added; and it was quite plain that she had not.

Taken from:
E. Nesbit, The Wonderful Garden (1911), pp. 153, 259-60.

What did I think of this book? Not bad. Certainly not my favourite book by Nesbit, but it was amusing in its own way.

Characters Up a Tree

Problems make for interesting plot.

Writing gurus will tell budding authors: "Get your character up a tree. And put tigers under the tree."

Janette Rallison's Just One Wish is a pretty quick and light read. In the story, Annika promises her little brother (who is dying from cancer) that she will introduce him to his favorite Hollywood actor: Steve Raleigh, aka Teen Robin Hood. At times, Annika goes through a mad-cap adventure to find, meet, and finally convince teen idol, Steve, to come back with her to meet her brother.

Rallison very nicely uses the put-your-character-up-a-tree technique to keep the plot going. Especially for what could have been a boring drive from California to Nevada in Chapter 12. Here we see Annika and Steve finally on their way to visit her little brother. That's when they're about to be put up a tree (figuratively, of course!). Annika is driving when she realizes that the paparazzi is following them.

Steve looked at the speedometer for the first time. "You're going going ninety-five. If you get pulled over going twenty-five miles over the speed limit, it's a criminal offense."

"Really? How do you know that?"

Steve smiled. "Don't ask. Just slow down a little."

"I'm trying to lose that car behind us. It's one of the guys from the restaurant."

With some fancy driving (perhaps reminiscent of the Dukes of Hazzard?), Annika manages to shake her pursuer. They are once more on their way. But, don't forget the tigers... Chapter 12 ends with:

Everything was looking up.

But half an hour outside of Barstow, in the middle of the Majave Desert, the car broke down.

Taken from:
Rallison, Janette. Just One Wish (2009), pp. 180, 185.

How did I rate this book? Readable (although a bit unrealistic)

A Sense of Doom

This next selection comes from Frank Capra's autobiography. The book is a fascinating read. A born storyteller, it's no wonder that the man made some classic movies.

Here he is recounting his early years (before getting into the movie-making business). His immigrant family had a hard life trying to survive in their new country. But finally, things were looking up...

On sun drenched February morning in 1917, Papa walked through his fifteen-acre lemon grove on the high, frost-free foothills above Sierra Madre, surveying his beautiful trees dripping with large yellowing fruit. A $5,000 crop, Papa estimated, more than enough to make the last mortgage payment due in two weeks. Tomorrow he would gather up pickers in Monrovia to harvest the bountiful yield. God smiled on him.

The first three years he had worked the grove alone, from dawn to sundown: pruning, watering, hauling manure from the Valley, discing behind his horse--and hoeing until he couldn't straighten up. But two years ago he had ordered Mama and Ann to quit work and live with him as the ranch--a happy day. No more would they ever have to slave, he promised. I'm sure that Papa must have counted his blessings that beautiful early spring day...

It's at this point that you begin to think that things are too perfect. What is going to spoil this picture?! You can just feel the shadow making its way towards the valley...

About an hour after breakfast, my seventeen-year-old sister Ann, the youngest and most beloved of the family, heard a strange and fearful whirring noise in the grove. She called Papa. No answer. Investigating, she traced the whir to the well-pump house. She looked inside--and froze in horror. Papa was dead, his chest crushed and edged between the teeth of two large gears. the long, black left, from the racing motor to the pump, was chewed up and wrapped crazily around his body...

Papa's dream of moving his family out of the ghetto and onto his beloved farm was shattered...

Taken from:
Capra, Frank. The Name Above the Title (1971), pp. 8-9.

How did I rate this book? Good

A Magic Deeper Still

I will let this piece speak for itself...

At that moment they heard from behind them a loud noise—a great cracking, deafening noise as if a giant had broken a giant's plate.... The Stone Table was broken into two pieces by a great crack that ran down it from end to end; and there was no Aslan.

"Who's done it?" cried Susan. "What does it mean? Is it more magic?"

"Yes!" said a great voice from behind their backs. "It is more magic." They looked round. There, shining in the sunrise, larger than they had seen him before, shaking his mane (for it had apparently grown again) stood Aslan himself.

"Oh, Aslan!" cried both the children, staring up at him, almost as much frightened as they were glad....

"But what does it all mean?" asked Susan when they were somewhat calmer.

"It means," said Aslan, "that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still which she did not know. Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and the darkness before Time dawned, she would have read there a different incantation. She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backward."

Taken from:
Lewis, C.S. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (1950), p. 163.

How did I rate this book? 5 stars