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4 stars. I grew up on these books, and as far back as I remember, they were there. This one has always been one I particularly enjoyed reading because of the survival aspect… There’s something very appealing and fascinating in the idea of leaving everything you know, travelling in a wagon, building a new home from scratch… And I loved the prairie.
However, I’m old enough now to be a little disenchanted. To start with, I’m deeply frustrated by how pointless it all is. All the blood, sweat, and tears that went into the prairie trip… everything they suffered… all the uproot and struggle… what was it worth in the end? They have to leave everything and start over somewhere else. And they never really had to go there at all. Pa wanted to go, because Pa wanted to travel. He liked the wild life. But if it was really good land he wanted, he could have stayed in Minnesota. I feel so sorry for Ma, now. I can put myself in her shoes, and I’m in awe of her strength and womanliness and motherhood. And yet in all my irritation with Pa, I can admire his strength and effort.
Yet they’re not blameless. The blatant racism in this book is saddening. While Laura herself doesn’t exactly condone it, Ma is clearly anti-Amerindian, and so are the Scotts and Mr. Edwards. It breaks my heart for the Osages and other tribes forced to clear out because settlers took their land without permission. It angers me that the settlers thought that the Osages “didn’t deserve” the land because they didn’t farm it—that it “belonged” to people who would “do something with it.” Even Pa, who is the least racist, subscribes to this idea. And I’m sorry, too, for the three little Ingalls girls forced to live through the terror of the “jamboree” and the war cry, because their parents brought them there. Yet I have to remember that Pa and Ma are not that old here, and they are—unfortunate as it is—perpetrating the ideas that have surrounded them. It doesn’t excuse them, but it’s a truth that has to be admitted.
But despite the problems, I don’t think the book should be censored or banned. It’s important to acknowledge this happened. It’s important to see this primary source evidence of one point of view, even if it’s wrong. It’s important to know this history, heavy as it is.
Do I still love the book? Not in the same way. I don’t think I’ll ever see it the way I did. It’s become something tangible, instead of a simple little story of a girl travelling. And it’s an image of life, too, which can seem so cruel and without resolution. An image of humanity, which is so blinded and selfish at times. And it’s fascinating to me to see a portrait of pioneers with their good and bad points—their failings and strengths.
A Favourite Beautiful Quote: “Hundreds of meadow larks were rising from the prairie, singing higher and higher in the air. Their songs came down from the great, clear sky like a rain of music. And all over the land, where the grasses waved and murmured under the wind, thousands of little dickie-birds clung with their tiny claws to the blossoming weeds and sang their thousands of little songs.”
However, I’m old enough now to be a little disenchanted. To start with, I’m deeply frustrated by how pointless it all is. All the blood, sweat, and tears that went into the prairie trip… everything they suffered… all the uproot and struggle… what was it worth in the end? They have to leave everything and start over somewhere else. And they never really had to go there at all. Pa wanted to go, because Pa wanted to travel. He liked the wild life. But if it was really good land he wanted, he could have stayed in Minnesota. I feel so sorry for Ma, now. I can put myself in her shoes, and I’m in awe of her strength and womanliness and motherhood. And yet in all my irritation with Pa, I can admire his strength and effort.
Yet they’re not blameless. The blatant racism in this book is saddening. While Laura herself doesn’t exactly condone it, Ma is clearly anti-Amerindian, and so are the Scotts and Mr. Edwards. It breaks my heart for the Osages and other tribes forced to clear out because settlers took their land without permission. It angers me that the settlers thought that the Osages “didn’t deserve” the land because they didn’t farm it—that it “belonged” to people who would “do something with it.” Even Pa, who is the least racist, subscribes to this idea. And I’m sorry, too, for the three little Ingalls girls forced to live through the terror of the “jamboree” and the war cry, because their parents brought them there. Yet I have to remember that Pa and Ma are not that old here, and they are—unfortunate as it is—perpetrating the ideas that have surrounded them. It doesn’t excuse them, but it’s a truth that has to be admitted.
But despite the problems, I don’t think the book should be censored or banned. It’s important to acknowledge this happened. It’s important to see this primary source evidence of one point of view, even if it’s wrong. It’s important to know this history, heavy as it is.
Do I still love the book? Not in the same way. I don’t think I’ll ever see it the way I did. It’s become something tangible, instead of a simple little story of a girl travelling. And it’s an image of life, too, which can seem so cruel and without resolution. An image of humanity, which is so blinded and selfish at times. And it’s fascinating to me to see a portrait of pioneers with their good and bad points—their failings and strengths.
A Favourite Beautiful Quote: “Hundreds of meadow larks were rising from the prairie, singing higher and higher in the air. Their songs came down from the great, clear sky like a rain of music. And all over the land, where the grasses waved and murmured under the wind, thousands of little dickie-birds clung with their tiny claws to the blossoming weeds and sang their thousands of little songs.”
