I just finished rereading By the Shores of Silver Lake, the fifth book in the Little House series. I haven't read this one in years; growing up, it was my least favorite of the series, and my copy of it from my original set (given to me for Christmas when I was less than a year old) was lost when I left it behind in a previous move. So I think the last time I could have read the book was when I was 19 or 20. Obviously, a few things have changed since then! Enough so that in rereading the book last week I found it surprisingly powerful in a number of ways.
For one thing, this is the book where Laura transitions from child to woman. She rebels against it - the book is filled with references to her desire to be running free on the prairies like a little girl again - but with her older sister having gone blind, Laura has been promoted to the oldest helper in the family. Nothing to be done about that. (Interestingly, especially given my thoughts and discussions on childhood from yesterday, in BtSoSL Laura is 13, and beginning to be considered the third adult of the family.) Laura's responsible for her blind sister, for helping around the house, watching out for the younger children, assisting her father, taking care of the cow ... the list goes on and on.
I've been giving a lot of thought to her portrayal of her sisters in recent years. Grace, obviously, is too young during the series to be much a part of Laura's life, and indeed, Laura seems the least involved with her youngest sister of the whole family. Carrie becomes a more pivotal figure later, as she grows older and into Laura's sphere, but is largely portrayed as delicate, over-sensitive, and too easily frightened, especially as compared with Laura, who is bigger in age and bone structure and strength, and who covers her fears. Mary has a similar one-note treatment - bossy and over-perfect before she goes blind, sweet and good and nicely perfect afterward.
And the parents' attitudes toward the sisters are very different as well. Pa gives Laura all these pet names - flutterbudget, half-pint - but nowhere in the series does he refer to any of the other girls by a pet name. His relationship with Laura seems closer and more companionable than his relationship with any of his other daughters. They're portrayed as being very similar spirits, but it begs the question how much of that is Laura's view of the past and how much of it was actual? Given her position as oldest helper, her general lack of interest in the more gentle womanly indoor tasks, her physical strength, and her love of freedom and the outdoors, I can easily believe that she was his designated helper, and a certain level of closeness would have come with that. But I wonder what his relationships with the other sisters were like.
For one thing, this is the book where Laura transitions from child to woman. She rebels against it - the book is filled with references to her desire to be running free on the prairies like a little girl again - but with her older sister having gone blind, Laura has been promoted to the oldest helper in the family. Nothing to be done about that. (Interestingly, especially given my thoughts and discussions on childhood from yesterday, in BtSoSL Laura is 13, and beginning to be considered the third adult of the family.) Laura's responsible for her blind sister, for helping around the house, watching out for the younger children, assisting her father, taking care of the cow ... the list goes on and on.
I've been giving a lot of thought to her portrayal of her sisters in recent years. Grace, obviously, is too young during the series to be much a part of Laura's life, and indeed, Laura seems the least involved with her youngest sister of the whole family. Carrie becomes a more pivotal figure later, as she grows older and into Laura's sphere, but is largely portrayed as delicate, over-sensitive, and too easily frightened, especially as compared with Laura, who is bigger in age and bone structure and strength, and who covers her fears. Mary has a similar one-note treatment - bossy and over-perfect before she goes blind, sweet and good and nicely perfect afterward.
And the parents' attitudes toward the sisters are very different as well. Pa gives Laura all these pet names - flutterbudget, half-pint - but nowhere in the series does he refer to any of the other girls by a pet name. His relationship with Laura seems closer and more companionable than his relationship with any of his other daughters. They're portrayed as being very similar spirits, but it begs the question how much of that is Laura's view of the past and how much of it was actual? Given her position as oldest helper, her general lack of interest in the more gentle womanly indoor tasks, her physical strength, and her love of freedom and the outdoors, I can easily believe that she was his designated helper, and a certain level of closeness would have come with that. But I wonder what his relationships with the other sisters were like.
In contrast, Ma seems to view Laura as a bewildering challenge. In comparison with the other three girls, all portrayed as being very amenable to ladylike interests and tasks, Laura refers to herself as a 'hoyden', and the underlying thread in her dealings with her mother is that the two women never quite understand each other. They grow to appreciate one another as Laura grows older, but the essential difference between them never seems to diminish. In BtSoSL, Ma is very much the catalyst for a lot of Laura's feelings of repression and longing to be free, as it's Ma's gentle but firm hand that keeps trying to force her into the "ladylike" box into which she just doesn't fit.
The other thing that struck me while reading BtSoSL was the description of their winter on the prairie in the surveyors' house, much of which they spent entirely alone. Firstly, again in conjunction with some of the parenting discussions I was involved in this week, I was struck by how few people these days would trust themselves so far from any kind of human contact. No doctors, no hospitals, you name it. Not another soul within 40 miles - which in those days was a more than significant distance. But also, I was intoxicated by the thought of the quiet and the solitude. I know myself well enough to know that I wouldn't actually be happy all alone with no one to talk to for a whole winter, but the idea of being all alone in all that space for even a few minutes sounds breathtaking.
Laura's books are run through with the thread of her longing to keep moving. I sympathize with that desire. My biggest struggle with my (very good) life as I get older is the dichotomy that I want badly for my children to grow up involved in a community, to have that support behind them and the comfort of the familiar ... but I also don't want to give up the intoxicating speculation of what life might be like beyond the next hill. And I know the second has given way to the first, much as I try to pretend the possibilities lie out there. So I respond strongly to Laura and Pa's joy in packing up the wagon and being on the move again. And I appreciate that I can go with them in my imagination while staying put in real life.
The other thing that struck me while reading BtSoSL was the description of their winter on the prairie in the surveyors' house, much of which they spent entirely alone. Firstly, again in conjunction with some of the parenting discussions I was involved in this week, I was struck by how few people these days would trust themselves so far from any kind of human contact. No doctors, no hospitals, you name it. Not another soul within 40 miles - which in those days was a more than significant distance. But also, I was intoxicated by the thought of the quiet and the solitude. I know myself well enough to know that I wouldn't actually be happy all alone with no one to talk to for a whole winter, but the idea of being all alone in all that space for even a few minutes sounds breathtaking.
Laura's books are run through with the thread of her longing to keep moving. I sympathize with that desire. My biggest struggle with my (very good) life as I get older is the dichotomy that I want badly for my children to grow up involved in a community, to have that support behind them and the comfort of the familiar ... but I also don't want to give up the intoxicating speculation of what life might be like beyond the next hill. And I know the second has given way to the first, much as I try to pretend the possibilities lie out there. So I respond strongly to Laura and Pa's joy in packing up the wagon and being on the move again. And I appreciate that I can go with them in my imagination while staying put in real life.
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