Wednesday, June 19, 2024

Women's Diaries of the Westward Journey

Women's Diaries of the Westward Journey, Lillian Schlissel (from the TBR stacks)

Last year I read Covered Wagon Women, Diaries & Letters from the Western Trails, 1840-1849, edited by Kenneth L. Holmes. It is the first in a series of eleven compilations, covering different decades of emigrant women's diaries. I did check to see if my library had the later books (they don't), and I resisted immediately looking for copies on-line. When I came across Women's Diaries of the Westward Journey on the library sale shelves, I immediately picked it up.

After a brief introduction by the editor, Covered Wagon Women comprises twelve sets of letters and diaries, including several from the Donner party. I had not fully understood the horror of that tragedy before reading these. Women's Diaries on the other hand has only five accounts (diaries and reminiscences). The bulk of the book is a discussion of women's experiences on the trails. I found that part very interesting and informative. The diaries are included at the end, and they are much less interesting and comprehensive than the ones in the first book.

This book was originally published in 1982 and revised in 1992. The author's main argument seems to be that there were fundamental differences in how women and men experienced their travels, and it is crucial to understand those differences. I think this may have been one of the first books to center women's experiences, and to try to expand the history of the western pioneers to include their perspectives. From her author's notes, it seems that at the time she was writing the book, women's diaries were scattered in archives and private collections, and not well known. Covered Wagon Women (the first volume) was published a year later, which fits that timeline.

Prof. Schlissel organizes her overview by decade. I had not realized how profoundly the journey changed, from the first emigrants who pretty much just loaded their wagons and headed west, with no real understanding of exactly where they were going or what they would face along the way. By the end, people were traveling in relative comfort, even by railway rather than wagons. Among the many things I learned: most women did not want to go west, particularly when it meant leaving family behind. I was stunned at the number of women who set off on their travels while pregnant. Prof. Schlissel argues that their condition was not considered a reason for delay, nor did it excuse them from the work of the journey - work that she explains was exhausting and difficult. As dangerous as childbirth was in the 19th century in general, these women also faced delivering a child on the road, likely with no doctor or midwife if something went wrong. And then they had to get back on the trail within a day or so. The diaries of these Victorian women do not discuss any details of pregnancy or childbirth, but they do record the deaths of mothers and children. That is apparently another difference with the diaries kept by men: the women noted the deaths and the (many) graves they passed every day in great detail, while the men tended to gloss over or ignore them.

One aspect of these journeys that I had never considered is that on the flat open prairies, which went on for hundreds of miles, there were no convenient bushes or trees for bathroom breaks. This was a constant concern for the women, particularly those traveling alone in groups of men. Prof. Schlissel argues that traveling with other women could be a comfort on many levels, most basically because women in long skirts could provide privacy screens for each other. In a fascinating bit of historical theory, she thinks that is why bloomers never really caught on with the emigrant women. They wanted the skirts as shields.

I enjoyed this book very much, while realizing that I am very grateful for modern travel conveniences. Next time I am in Oregon, I want to visit the End of the Oregon Trail Museum near Portland. And I may look for one of those remaining ten volumes of diaries - or wait to see if they show up on a sale shelf.

Monday, June 17, 2024

Christopher and Columbus (re-read)

One bookish goal of mine is to have all my books on shelves. Currently I have the 2024 TBR stacked right next to the computer, as a reminder. I also have a matching stack of books on the other side that I'd like to read this year. I have some gifted books stacked beside a bookcase as well. I do feel at least that these are manageable stacks.

I even have a little bit of space on the shelves. That's partly because I don't buy as many books these days. I'm on my second year of "52 new books for the year" and it's working pretty well. It also helps that my neighborhood Barnes & Noble has closed for renovations, which has really cut down my impulse purchases. I am also culling my shelves, in a version of Marie Kondo's famous method. I don't ask if a particular book sparks joy, but I do ask if I think I will re-read it. That is my main criterion for keeping a book, that I want to have it on hand for re-reading. I've taken a good number of books that I decide I won't re-read to donate to the library (I always wonder what they make of the very mixed bags of books I drop off).

One of the authors whose books I was looking at is Elizabeth von Arnim, once I realized that I have never yet picked up one of her books to read again. It was easy to let The Pastor's Wife go, it's such a bleak story, and Fräulein Schmidt and Mr Anstruther also went on the donation stack. But when it came to Christopher and Columbus, I hesitated. I remembered something of the story, and that I thought it wasn't one of her stronger books. I was curious enough to read it again, and I have to say I enjoyed it much more this time than when I first read it in 2011. I found it a lot funnier than I remembered. My original post covered the plot. What I particularly enjoyed this time was the setting during the Great War, the travel by liner (across the Atlantic) and by train (across the US), and the whirlwind setting up of a tea shop (one of my favorite tropes - though sadly this one closed soon after opening). My main quibble is that the ending felt very rushed, and I am uncomfortable with the "happy" ending where the 17-year-old twins marry in haste (one to a man twice her age). 

So this one will stay on the shelves for now. But there's space for it, with fewer books double-stacked. It feels good to let books go.

Wednesday, June 12, 2024

The Penguin Book of Dragons

 From the TBR stacks: The Penguin Book of Dragons, edited by Scott G. Bruce

I don't remember the first stories I heard or read about dragons, but they have always been my favorite mythical creatures. Maybe because I associate them with cats? My ideas of dragons were shaped first by Ursula Le Guin, in her Earthsea books. Then I fell deeply in love with Anne McCaffrey's Pern novels, with their dragons and fire lizards. I wrote what was technically fan-fiction when I wrote myself into the books - of course I Impressed a queen dragon. It was magical meeting someone at college who shared my love of those books. Just a couple of weeks ago, I discovered that my sister-in-law, whom I've known for almost 40 years, also read and loved the Pern books. And then there is J.R.R. Tolkien's Smaug.

I still read stories of dragons with delight, particularly when the dragons are complicated characters. Among my recent favorites:

  • The Termeraire series by Naomi Novik - the Napoleonic Wars with dragons (at least the early books, I gave up on the series when the war moved to Russia)
  • Tooth and Claw, by Jo Walton - Anthony Trollope's Framley Parsonage, with dragons
  • When Women Were Dragons, by Kelly Barnhill - women become dragons to escape, to revenge themselves, to be free
  • And one of the best books I read last year, To Shape a Dragon's Breath by Moniquill Blackgoose, which just won a Nebula award - Anequs, a Native American girl in an America colonized from Scandinavia, becomes bonded to a dragon hatchling - and is immediately forced to attend a colonizers' dragon academy.

I bought a copy of The Penguin Book of Dragons as soon as I saw it advertised, back in 2021. I finally picked it up a couple of days ago, thinking it would be a book to dip in and out of. To my surprise, I couldn't put it down. It covers so many aspects of how dragons have been written about and reported on, going back to ancient China, India, Greece, and Rome. It ends with stories by Kenneth Grahame and E. Nesbit, who were part of a trend of domesticating dragons, especially for children's stories. The editor, Scott Bruce, connects this to the current popularity of dragons in books and TV/film, down to Game of Thrones (which I couldn't read and didn't want to watch). 

I was familiar with the Christian connections of dragons to Satan and the fallen angels, from the Book of Revelation. I didn't realize though how seriously people took dragons. There are lengthy extracts from two 18th century naturalists whose books combined historical overviews of dragon lore down to current events involving dragons, which they firmly believed were authentic. I also enjoyed the stories from Asia, including one from the Rig Veda (1500-1200 BCE) of the storm deity Indra battling a dragon who is holding the world's water hostage - the earliest dragon story the editor has found.

One thing I didn't know: Edmund Spenser's The Faerie Queene is a political and religious allegory, where dragons represent the sins and evils of the Roman Catholic Church. The excerpts included from that were rather gruesome.

Monday, June 10, 2024

More of a reading/books diary? Also, new books

I read a recommendation for a book, The Imposter Heiress by Annie Reed, and I had that "I need to read this" feeling that has led to the TBR stacks. That didn't stop me from ordering a copy (since it comes out tomorrow, I couldn't find a copy to request through interlibrary loan). 

I was excited to learn that Ovidia Yu has released a new book in the "Mystery Tree" series, The Angsana Tree Mystery, though the print copy doesn't come out until September. I have really enjoyed this series, but I have to admit, I'm glad that the latest book takes place after the end of World War II. I recently read Hawker Dreams, by Oanh Ngo Usadi, a memoir of her family relocating to Singapore from the US for three years, for her husband's work. Singapore is one of the places I hope to visit one day, in no small part thanks to Ovidia Yu.

One of my favorite books of last year, To Shape a Dragon's Breath, by Moniquill Blackgoose, won a Nebula award last night. I am so happy to see that. It is an amazing book, an alt-history where America was colonized by Scandinavians rather than the British, but the Native American population suffered just as much - as did their dragons. 15-year-old Anequs finds a dragon’s egg and bonds with its hatchling, only to be forced into an academy for dragon companions, where as a Native American women she is most unwelcome. I have high hopes for a sequel. Probably not coincidentally, I am currently reading The Penguin Book of Dragons.

Just read off the TBR stacks: My Fair Concubine, by Jeannie Lin. A version of My Fair Lady, set in China's Tang dynasty. It has a really vivid sense of place, and I loved Yang Lin, the foundling from a tea house who is recruited for a diplomatic marriage (to replace the hero's sister, who eloped to avoid the marriage).

Sunday, April 2, 2023

52 books project - first quarter

I am pleased and surprised at how well my "52 books" project has gone so far. My goal is to buy only 52 new books - meaning books I haven't read yet - over the course of the year.

As of April 1st, I've bought 10 new books. I've read three of them:

Deborah Crombie's A Killing of Innocents
Paula Tarnapol Whitacre's A Civil Life in an Uncivil Time
Seanan McGuire's Backpacking Through Bedlam

One book I decided wasn't for me, Talia Hibbert's Highly Suspicious and Unfairly Cute. I enjoy her adult romances but I don't read a lot of young adult, or New Adult for that matter. I was happy to donate it to the library sale.

Of the 10 books that fall under the project, listed over on the right, most have been anticipated pre-orders. Only one recently, The Mimicking of Known Successes by Malka Older, was an impulse buy. I heard it reviewed on a podcast and decided not to wait for a library copy.

I haven't spent much time in bookstores lately, which feels OK, not like a deprivation. I am visiting the library on my usual weekly visits and bringing home stacks of books that I don't usually get around to reading. That's where I do my browsing these days.

Otherwise, I've bought four books that I read originally as e-books and wanted to have on my shelves, from Victoria Goddard's Greenwing and Dart fantasy series.

What I haven't managed to do is cross too many books off the TBR list. I've been re-reading a lot lately, including Anthony Trollope for the first time in years. It's been a complicated time at work, and I had to travel to Oregon for a family memorial service. It was my first trip since COVID, which added to my usual travel anxiety. There were a couple of posts on the Tor website in the past months that mirrored my reading and re-reading. First, Malka Older wrote about "Comfort Reading" (this was before I was introduced to her via podcast). Like her, I have been looking for kindness in books lately. Second, Molly Templeton wrote about "Reading in a Fallow Month." Her post really spoke to me.

I have a couple of books to pre-order for May, including a new fantasy novel from Martha Wells that I am very excited about, Witch King. I'm also looking forward to the long Easter weekend, with some extra time for reading. Meanwhile, I'll keep working on the TBR stacks, and carting books home from the library.

Sunday, February 19, 2023

A Killing of Innocents, by Deborah Crombie

This book is published by William Morrow, an imprint of HarperCollins. I was very glad to see that the HarperCollins workers' union (Local 2110 UAW) reached an agreement with the publisher this week after more than three months on strike. The union did not ask people to boycott HarperCollins books, but many readers refused to review or publicize HC books in solidarity. This was the first HC book I've had to write about since getting back to blogging.

This is the 19th book in Deborah Crombie's long-running series of police procedurals, featuring married police officers Gemma James and Duncan Kincaid. In the early books, Gemma was part of Duncan's team at Scotland Yard. As their relationship became personal, they kept it secret until Gemma earned a promotion and moved to her own team. In later books their cases often overlap, or one or the other finds a reason to get involved.

The previous book, A Bitter Feast, was published back in 2019, and I had started to wonder if it might be the last. I was very pleasantly surprised to see a new book announced for April of this year, and it immediately went on my "52 books" list. It was an even bigger surprise when the publication was moved up to early February. I had started re-reading some of the more recent books in the series, since it's been a good while, and I'm glad I started with A Bitter Feast, because I didn't have as much time for re-reading as I'd planned!

A Killing of Innocents takes place a few months after the last book, so before COVID. It's apparently set in 2018, since there is a reference to Lin-Manuel Miranda in "Mary Poppins Returns." In such a long-running series, with the first published in 1993, I don't think that Deborah Crombie is tying the books to a current timeline.

The story opens in London with the death of a young doctor in training, Sasha Johnson. She is stabbed one evening while walking through a crowded Russell Square, and the only one who even notices her fall to the ground is a five-year-old boy. The case falls to Duncan and his team out of the Holborn station. As always, the story has a real sense of place, with a beautifully detailed map of the area of the investigations. Running parallel with the investigations are side stories with Duncan's team, particularly his sergeant Doug, Gemma and her sergeant Melody, and Gemma and Duncan's blended family of three children, and their family and friends. It was lovely to meet these characters again and to catch up with their lives, but I could see it might be a little confusing to a new reader. There are also new characters to follow, particularly Duncan's team in Holborn, with sections written from their points of view. It does take the focus of Gemma and Duncan, though they remain central to the story.

While the mystery is resolved very neatly, the story ended with two minor cliffhangers, for Duncan and Gemma and also for Melody. This isn't the first time Deborah Crombie has done this. I remember that the last page of The Sound of Broken Glass had me quickly flipping through the blank end pages, unable to believe that there wasn't more. The cliffhangers here give me hope that Deborah Crombie has another book in mind.

N.B. This was book #4 in my "52 books for 2023", and well worth a place.

Sunday, February 12, 2023

This Grand Experiment, by Jessica Ziparo

The subtitle of this history is "When Women Entered the Federal Workforce in Civil War-Era Washington, D.C." I learned about it from references in Walter Stahr's biography of Salmon Chase, the Secretary of the Treasury in Abraham Lincoln's Civil War cabinet. I had some vague knowledge that women first came to work for the U.S. government during the Civil War, Clara Barton being perhaps the best-known example, but I didn't know much. I was curious to learn more, and the description of this book made me add it to my reading stacks:

"In the volatility of the Civil War, the federal government opened its payrolls to women. Although the press and government officials considered the federal employment of women to be an innocuous wartime aberration, women immediately saw the new development for what it was: a rare chance to obtain well-paid, intellectually challenging work in a country and time that typically excluded women from such channels of labor. Thousands of female applicants from across the country flooded Washing with applications. Here, Jessica Ziparo traces the struggles and triumphs of early female federal employees, who were caught between traditional, cultural notions of female dependence and an evolving movement of female autonomy in a new economic reality. In doing so, Ziparo demonstrates how these women challenged societal gender norms, carved out a place for independent women in the streets of Washington, and sometimes clashed with the female suffrage movement."
Ziparo makes it clear from the first pages that this is not a story of triumphal achievement for women. They were paid significantly less than men, they had to put a lot of time and effort into getting a position, they faced hostility and sexual harassment from their male coworkers, and there was no job security. Women were also crowded into corners and attics, as supervisors struggled with adapting work spaces for women (hoop skirts took up a lot of room), and working out how men and women could share offices. In addition, Ziparo acknowledges that most of the sources for her history privilege white middle-class women's experiences. Working-class women, both Black and white, have left fewer archival sources and are often left out of contemporary accounts.

Despite the challenges they faced, however, once women got a foothold in government employment, they never lost it. They were not pushed out of jobs after the Civil War in the same way they would be in the 20th century, to make way for the returning soldiers. In part, as Ziparo explains, this is because of the way the women's work was framed. Many of the jobs, like cutting out currency bills or binding government publications, were seen as "women's work." Men didn't compete for those jobs. Hiring women was also presented as a means of assisting the widows and orphans of the brave Union soldiers, making it more acceptable for them to work outside the home, and they still needed that assistance after the war ended. In reality, they were often supporting a home, with parents or children dependent on them.

It was sobering to read the letters of female applicants, who desperately needed work, but also needed male patrons with influence in the government offices or in Congress. The traditional work open to women outside the home was teaching or domestic work. As noted above, the jobs in the government offices, though paying women half what the male employees received, was still some of the best-paid work available. And while some of the work was repetitive and boring, like counting currency, it still got women into the nation's capital and into the proverbial halls of power. As Ziparo notes, it also normalized women's presence in government buildings and in public life.

One of the women whose career Ziparo follows through her history is Julia Wilbur, who kept a diary during her years in Washington. I was disappointed to find that the diary has not been published, though it has been digitized and transcribed. I did find however a biography, A Civil Life in an Uncivil Time, and I decided it was worth a spot on my 52 books for the year.