Frontier Lonely

Yesterday I picked up Pioneer women: Voices from the Kansas Frontier, by Joanna L. Stratton. It’s a study of the challenges met by frontier settlers, wives and mothers who lived on America’s open prairies in the late nineteenth century. Because I’ve been reading Willa Cather of late and noted isolation threaded through her work, I went straight to Stratton’s index and looked up ‘loneliness.’

Stratton writes of the woman left to maintain and protect the family homestead when a husband had to be away for long periods. “In those lonely circumstances, she fought the wilderness with her own imagination, skill, common sense and determination.”

Stratton also describes how one woman, when overwhelmed by the vast unbroken prairie, went out to stretch out on the earth among her sheep to find comfort in their company. But animals weren’t always a source of solace. A mother and son came under siege by gray wolves during a time when they’d taken in a sick woman to be nursed at their sod house. Hungry wolves tried to get in through windows, door frames, and by scratching through sod walls. Only shooting guns and wielding axes kept the predators out.

Women and men became lonely for familiar things as well as people. Stratton recounts one woman who asked to accompany her husband on a trip of some miles to get wood, “She hadn’t seen a tree for two years, and when they arrived at Little River she put her arms around a tree and hugged it until she was hysterical.”

I’ve also recently dipped into John Fraley’s latest book, Rangers, Trappers, and Trailblazers: Early Adventures in Montana’s Bob Marshall Wilderness and Glacier National Park. His chapter on Lost Paola Ranger Station intrigued me because it’s about a couple who married in 1923. They set up housekeeping in Glacier National Park. “‘Well, Paula was considered a very isolated station,’ Clyde noted in an interview much later.”My wife didn’t see any women for several months.’” Marie took the train to Kalispell for the births of their first two sons. Otherwise, the family stayed at the ranger station full time and year round.“Busy on patrols, Clyde said he never got lonely. But he suspected that Marie did.”

Eventually, when Clyde was reassigned to Two Medicine station, Marie was able to live in a house in East Glacier near women both ordinary and colorful. She never again lived far from the company of other women in a place as remote as Paola Ranger Station.

            Willa Cather writes about the Nebraska prairie and the people, a mix of Swedish, Bohemian, French, and German who settled there beginning in the 1870s. O Pioneers, the first novel in her Prairie Trilogy, tells of Alexandra, a strong woman with the appearance of a Swedish goddess. The oldest and smartest child in the family, she has to take on the responsibility of making their farm prosper after her father’s early death. She has a love for the land, and the foresight and organizational ability to make it productive.

            Alexandra has everything by the time she is in her prime, everything but soul mates. The dull and bigoted, including her brothers, have no appeal for her. She acknowledges her loneliness, but copes until there are at last, not just people around her, but enough of them so she finds one who is a soul mate.

            Loneliness visited women who settled the frontier in mountains and prairies. They used all the qualities and techniques they could summon to survive. They valued those who eventually joined them and shared their stories.

WHEN TITLES REVERBERATE

“Nothing I force myself to write about ever turns out well, and so I’ve learned to wait for the voice, the incident, the image that reverberates.” Louise Erdrich

Erdrich is writing about more than titles, but that’s what I jumped to when I read her words. Have you noticed that some titles just reach out, make you want to explore the book, set off a little reverberating bell? Titles are so important. They’re meant to let us know a little about what’s in the book. That can be a person or place name. But they also have to have what Hemingway called magic. For me that means the words have to connote something, make us associate a word with implications and associations, for example, ‘Easter’ with spring and rebirth.

I’ve read that Hemingway searched the poetic King James Bible when he sought the right title for what became The Sun also Rises.  Besides the Biblical source, the word ‘sun’ has strong connotations of light and warmth.

And, have you noticed that titles seem to have trends like fashion? That word ‘light’ has appeared in lots of titles lately. I think Anthony Doerr started with his wonderful, All the Light We cannot See. And ‘girl’. So many titles have that word. I think words float around and all at once catch us in our hearts, or intellects, or we associate them with other books. They work like magnets.

A friend who read a draft of my novel, Remarkable Silence, said the title was right there in the contents when a narrator commented that God remained “remarkably silent” on key matters.Remarkable Silence Karen Wills I wanted the word ‘river’ in the title of my novel, River with no Bridge that will be out this summer. river with no bridgeIt’s another word with connotations of nature and crossings. The sequel I’m working on will be Garden in the Sky. That was the name of a popular campfire during the time of construction of the Going-to-the-Sun or Transcontinental Highway in Glacier National Park. The road figures in the story. I also think ‘Garden’ and ‘Sky’ have strong connotations.

But I’m struggling for a title for a historical mystery I’ve just finished. Maybe I’ll just have to wait for something to reverberate. Luckily, Hemingway rejected both The World’s Room and They who get Shot before settling on the inspired, A Farewell to Arms. That must have resounded like a gong when the words finally appeared.

I’M TOO SEXY FOR MY SCENES

the kiss

Sex scenes. When, why, and where do they belong in novels? Sex is as important in fiction as in real life. And fiction incorporates particular reasons involving plot and structure for characters to engage in passion. The engaging, its reason for being, its character revelations, and its aftermath, even those details shown and not shown, should enhance the story

I’ve written scenes of passion into River with no Bridge (out June 21). As my protagonist, Irish-Catholic Nora, moves through life, she experiences love, or in one case lust, with three men. I hope readers will sense that the totality of these relationships, and her very different partners, move her from virginity to becoming a sensual lover. Sexual attitudes reveal so much about our characters and their changes.

Sex scenes can also be ugly precursors to damaging consequences for characters victimized by coercion. I’ve just read City of Light, a historical novel set in Buffalo, New York, at the time of the Pan American Expo. Author Lauren Belfer incorporates in one episode a depiction of women’s lack of empowerment at the turn of the century. The protagonist is coerced into having sex with Grover Cleveland. She uses details (“Your stomach like a rubbery cushion”) to show how frightening and disorienting forced sex is and how it determines so much of the story that follows.

After City of Light, I turned to Montana Women Writers own Deborah Epperson’s latest novel, Shadows of Home. Two former teenage lovers reclaim that status in several detailed scenes of passion renewed. Lovemaking is shown as their key to rediscovery and joyful reunion. It’s also a means of healing rifts, stress, and misunderstanding.

river with no bridgeA sex scene should only be used as needed to move the story forward. The introduction of lovemaking changes characters’ relationships. A sex scene just to have a sex scene will never work. Authors often struggle with the verbal details of the sex scene. The words used can vary depending on the characters. Crude characters tend to use crude words. More refined lovers, and seducers, use a refined vocabulary. Writers also vary in our own ideas of propriety. Modern readers are quite sophisticated and unlikely to be as easily offended as their historical counterparts.

Remember the language of a sex scene belongs to the character, not the author. If the story needs the scene then use it. There are many ways to write sex scenes. Every sentence should move the story forward and show us what our characters desire or fear.

Show an Affirming Flame

What is the role of an artist in turbulent times? Human history is an almost unbroken line of wars, both civil and international, and coping with natural and man-made disasters. Yet in all these struggles artists come forth to acknowledge our common “error bred in the bone” as well as the capacity to “love your crooked neighbor with your crooked heart.” My title and these phrases are all from the works of W.H. Auden, a homosexual poet who lived through World War II and never let its fearful horrors quench his spirit or ability to care about other people.

I’ve also just read a lovely and thoughtful novel by Amor Towles, A Gentleman in Moscow. It begins after the Russian Revolution. Count Alexander Rostov is declared a “former person” and put under house arrest in a luxury hotel after being judged guilty of writing a poem critical of the Bolsheviks. Established in a small garret room, but with freedom to move about in the hotel, his credo is that we “master our circumstances or our circumstances will master us.” The author goes on to show how his protagonist creates a life of humane purpose and grace under a regime that crushed the lives of so many others.

And so I believe that not only poetry, but stories and novels can be a wonderful way to show Auden’s affirming flame.  My novel, River with No Bridge, will be published in 2017. My protagonist experiences an Irish immigrant’s loneliness, losses, and gains while never giving in to America’s racial and class prejudices at the turn of the century. She is capable of empathy and that in itself shows one of the crucial forms Auden’s “affirming flame” may take.

As artists and readers, let us keep it burning.

Originally published in Montana Women Writers blog

The Day the Park Was Born

Establishing the Park
Around the turn of the century, people started to look at the land differently. Rather than just seeing the minerals they could mine or land to settle on, they started to recognize the value of its spectacular scenic beauty. Facilities for tourists started to spring up. In the late 1890’s, visitors arriving at Belton (now called West Glacier) could get off the train, take a stagecoach ride a few miles to Lake McDonald, and then board a boat for an eight mile trip to the Snyder Hotel. No roads existed in the mountains, but the lakes allowed boat travel into the wilderness.

Soon people, like George Bird Grinnell, pushed for the creation of a national park. Grinnell was an early explorer to this part of Montana and spent many years working to get the park established. The area was made a Forest Preserve in 1900, but was open to mining and homesteading. Grinnell and others sought the added protection a national park would provide. Grinnell saw his efforts rewarded in 1910 when President Taft signed the bill establishing Glacier as the country’s 10th national park.

Literary Elopements

Hunt William Holman's painting The Flight of Madeline and PorphyroJune is the month of weddings. We think of brides in white, bridesmaids, lovely cakes, flowers, and tearful moms. But through circumstance, or a horror of the above, some famous couples in literature choose to slip away for clandestine nuptials.

The most famous of these must be those crazy kids, Romeo and Juliet. Actually, their secret wedding has charm, but almost at once, events spin out of control. Family hatreds, murder, fake death, and real suicide do the newlyweds in. Truly, “…never was a story of more woe, than this of Juliet and her Romeo.” Unbridled passion, the tragic flaw that Shakespeare bestows on his tragic characters, is a direct route to misery.

A real life literary couple fared better after they eloped. The Victorian poets Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning defied her father and, with the aid of the semi-invalid Elizabeth’s nurse, slipped away from London’s Wimpole Street and made it to Italy. Her father disinherited her, and her brothers never spoke to her again. By all reports, however, theirs continued as a loving, supportive marriage until her death. Of course, they had much in common, including their work, literary friends, and an adoring public. In spite of Elizabeth’s frailty, she also gave birth to a son, nicknamed Pen. Theirs was a love match in every sense.

And finally, let’s consider one of my favorite poems, The Eve of St.Agnes by John Keats. On a freezing winter night of drunken revelry, Porphyro sneaks into the castle to his beloved Madeline’s room. He convinces the maiden (and she doesn’t need much convincing) to seize the moment and run away with him, “For o’er the southern moors I have a home for thee.”

It was February. Who can blame her?

Elopement, even of soul mates, has a romantic, reckless courage about it. And the wedding tends to be simple.

Happy Bloomsday, Everyone!

Author James Joyce     Today is June 16, or Bloomsday as it’s known to fans of James Joyce’s intricate novel, Ulysses (It’s also a day for many to run races, but never mind about that.) Specifically, Bloomsday is the day in which Joyce’s character, Leopold Bloom, experiences the entire human experience as he goes about Dublin. A variety of narrators come and go. The prose moves from stark to lyrical.

The book was an eye opener for me as Joyce wrote about subjects more frankly than I was prepared for. I was young when a reading mentor first urged me to read it. I got something out of it, but over the years, as I matured, so did my understanding of the book. The main theme is an exploration of love in its infinite variety. Toward the end of the novel, Bloom returns home to his unfaithful wife, Molly. She engages is an internal monologue as she remembers the early days of their courtship. The book ends with her words, “I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.” It was the most passionate description of lovemaking (not just sex) I’d ever read when I first discovered it, and I still believe it to be just that.

Joyce chose June 16,1904, because that was the day he met his future wife, Nora Barnacle. They were together some thirty years and produced two children before they actually married, but his choice of that date still strikes me as one of the world’s great romantic tributes.

Ulysses is a book for grownups, but it’s full of humor, playfulness, and the joy of life. Life isn’t always easy, but it’s here for the taking. The best thing about it is love.

Enjoy your day. The whole thing

The Maternal Instinct

drawingroom     Considering the theme of motherhood, I, who adopted my children, started thinking of adoption in literature. I was going to tackle the wicked stepmother thing in fairy tales, but that led to thoughts of Miss Haversham. In Great Expectations, Dickens presents her as a mother with an agenda. She schools her adopted daughter Estella to be the ultimate heartbreaker. Miss Haversham, abandoned at the altar decades before, is an uber man hater. She blames all men and warps lovely Estella to be a human revenge weapon. Our hero Pip saves Estella as much as he can, but only after feeling the requisite heartbreak. Revenge via kiddies is bad.

Let’s move on to Marilla from Anne of Green Gables by Lucy Maude Montgomery. Good at heart, Marilla is aging, unmarried, and lives with her shy bachelor brother Matthew. They planned to adopt a boy to help with farm work on their land on Prince Edward Island.

When Anne arrives instead, Marilla first balks at keeping her, then sees it as her Christian duty, but finally can’t resist the volatile, imaginative, bright, and affectionate Anne. Anne becomes the beloved daughter both Marilla and Matthew didn’t know they were missing. A gentle agenda doesn’t rule out love.

Perhaps my favorite adoptive mom is Clara in Larry McMurtry’s Lonesome Dove. Clara takes in the baby abandoned at her ranch by his mother. When his father arrives, Clara tells him, “I like young things…Babies and young horses. I get attached real quick. They don’t have to be mine.” Both baby and young father become part of Clara’s family. She has enough love and common sense to go around.

The theme of maternal instinct in literature is dramatized by many characters, and it makes for some great reads.

Immigrant Stories

I’ve just finished the manuscript of my second novel River with No Bridge. My main character is Nora Flanagan, an Irish immigrant whose story begins in 1882. Of course, America, as Emma Lazarus’ words on the Statue of Liberty tell us, has long been about those “yearning to breathe free,” who find their way to our “golden door.” I’m also the mother of an adopted daughter who is a naturalized citizen, so those words mean a great deal to me.

Although my protagonist, Nora, enters America from a ship that anchors in Boston, some years ago I visited Ellis Island where so many arrived. The big rooms, high ceilings, stairs, simply the vastness of the place made me think what shocks were in store for those who left their homelands. It was a life of gains, but losses, too.

Several books I’ve read in the last couple years are about immigrants. It’s interesting that in a few of these novels, the people couldn’t, or wouldn’t, or struggled with whether or not to stay in the United States. For example, the main character in Barbara Kingsolver’s, The Lacuna, flees under the oppression of McCarthyism’s anti-communist witch-hunt. In Ellis Island, by Kate Kerrigan, an Irish woman is torn between staying in free and prosperous America and returning to her husband in Ireland who bears physical and mental scars from The Troubles, the Irish resistance to English rule.In Cutting for Stone, by Abraham Verghese, a young medical student from Ethiopia is assigned to an inner city hospital where he must struggle to rise in his medical career. He becomes a doctor, but the homeland that needs him has a strong pull.

Even for those who stay, there are life’s losses. In The Lowland, by Jhumpa Lahiri, a marriage falls apart due to events that occurred in India before the wife’s arrival in America.

Virtually all the novels show characters falling in love with the United States even though they think longingly of the people and lands left behind. Most stay and live well overall. How hard they work to survive and belong here.

Every immigrant’s story is unique. Those who leave are enriched by their years here in education or life experience, but those who stay contribute to the country so many still aspire to enter and stay in. The Lady with the Lamp still symbolizes hope for a better life. What is your family’s story?