Little Britches, or Father and I Were Ranchers by Ralph Moody

May2

This autobiographical memoir/novel is actually the first in a series of such books written by the adult Mr. Moody about his childhood in Colorado, Boston, and later as a young adult, the West and Midwest. Ralph is eight years old as the story begins, but one has to remind oneself just how young he really was as the books progress through Ralph’s long life and he takes on more and more adult responsibility.

SPOILER: Ralph’s father dies at the end of the first book, Little Britches, but not before Ralph manages to learn some very important lessons from his almost saintly father.

A man’s character is like his house. If he tears boards off his house and burns them to keep himself warm and comfortable, his house soon becomes a ruin. If he tells lies to be able to do the things he shouldn’t do but wants to, his character will soon become a ruin. A man with a ruined character is a shame on the face of the earth.

Little Ralph takes this lesson to heart, not so much because the words are so impactful, but because he sees this character-building project as it takes place in his own father. Father is straight-talking, creative and innovative, hard-working, and above all, honest. And Ralph, aka “Little Britches” as the other boys and cowboys in Colorado call him, learns to be the same kind of man his father is, with a few mishaps and mistakes along the way.

The other books in the series are:

The Man of the Family. Nine year old Ralph and his older sister, Grace, work with their mother, an industrious and faith-filled example in her own right, to take care of the family after Father’s death. They start a baking business, and Ralph finds other ways to work and contribute to the family coffers. Life is hard, but good, and the family pulls together to recover from the tragedy of Father’s death.

The Home Ranch. Ralph finds new friends and mentors as he takes a job on a ranch for the summer.

Mary Emma & Company. Mary Emma is Ralph’s mother, and the family has moved back east to Boston in this fourth book in the series. The older members of the family must find new ways to support the family, and they start a laundry business while Ralph works as errand boy in a small grocery store. Over and over again, the lessons of diligence, faithfulness, and honesty are taught and learned through experience as Ralph, Grace and Mother work through illness, accidents, and mistakes to win through at the end.

The Fields of Home. In this book, a young teenage Ralph goes to live with his grandfather in Maine for a time. I didn’t read this one because I don’t have a copy of it yet.

Shaking the Nickel Bush. In 1918, Ralph is nineteen years old, thin and losing weight. The doctor diagnoses Ralph with diabetes and sends him west to work in the sunshine, follow a very restricted diet, and hope for the best. But everyone, including the doctor and Ralph’s family, knows that a diagnosis of diabetes (pre-insulin therapy) is practically a death sentence. Ralph manages to “shake the nickel bush”, support himself, and send money home—and survive and even thrive in spite of a ne’er-do-well companion and an ornery, broken-down “flivver” (automobile). Ralph does lie to his mother in his letters, to protect her from worry, and his friend, Lonnie, is a thief and a slacker. These aspects of the story are disappointing; nevertheless, the period details and the pure adventure of two young men traveling about and supporting themselves by their own hard work and ingenuity (mostly) are worth the read.

The Dry Divide. Ralph takes a laborer’s job on a wheat farm with a very cruel and dictatorial farmer, but by the end of the harvesting season, Ralph is a young entrepreneur with a thriving business and money in the bank. He works hard and smart, and everyone around Ralph shares in the prosperity that results from Ralph’s ingenuity and tenacity.

Horse of a Different Color: Reminiscences of a Kansas Drover. In this last book of the series, Ralph is a farmer/rancher himself. I still have this one to read in the future after I get hold of a copy.

I really loved these books, as evidenced by the fact that I read six of them in a week’s time, one after the other. I would have read all eight books that Mr. Moody wrote in his extended Bildungsroman if I had owned them all. Ralph “Little Britches” Moody and his friends and companions are not always perfect—there is some swearing and gambling in some of the books, condemned by Ralph’s mom, but still tolerated—nevertheless, I wish I had known about these books when my boys, and girls, were younger. I may still send one of my young adult sons a Ralph Moody book, if I can decide which one would most capture his interest and inspire him.

Mr Yowder and the Train Robbers by Glen Rounds

Apr24

I just read through Mr. Yowder and the Train Robbers, a book I ordered on impulse from a used book seller online. What a delight! Mr. Xenon Zebulon Yowder, “the World’s Bestest and Fastest Sign Painter,” gets a summer job painting elephants on the sides of buildings, and when he goes for a vacation after completing the job, he gets mixed up with a bunch of rattlesnakes and with some ornery, thieving outlaws. The story ends in a surprise, and it’s all done in less than fifty pages, so it’s the perfect book for reluctant or beginning readers who need a quick pay-off.

And did I mention that it’s funny? Mr. Yowder reminds me of a western McBroom, the protagonist of a series of tall tales by Sid Fleischman. And I also thought about Mr. Pine and the Mixed-up Signs by Leonard Kessler, maybe just because of the sign-painting and the humor. Mr. Yowder and the Train Robbers is a bit fantastical—Mr. Yowder can talk to snakes and teach them tricks—but it’s mostly a Western tall tale with a dry humor that will tickle the funny bone of those readers who have the same sense of humor as the teller of the tale.

I have the book Mr. Yowder and the Steamboat. Now I want to add the other Mr. Yowder books to my library:

Mr. Yowder and the Lion Roar Capsules
Mr. Yowder and the Giant Bull Snake
Mr. Yowder and the Bull Wagon

Ooooh, I see that there’s a collection of three of the Mr. Yowder tales in one book: Mr. Yowder, the Peripatetic Sign Painter: Three Tall Tales. I need that one, too. I love that the title uses the word “peripatetic”—an excellent word.

My library system has none of the Mr. Yowder books, and only three books by Glen Rounds, an excellent author of tall tales and stories of horses and of the old West.

Saturday Review of Books: April 21, 2018

Apr20

“Knowing I lov’d my books, he furnish’d me/From mine own library with volumes that I prize above my dukedom.” ~~William Shakespeare, The Tempest

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The Bard was born around this date (baptized, April 26th) in April, 1564, and he died April 23, 1616. And Will Shakespeare, like Prospero, I’m sure, did love his books.

Pigeon Post by Arthur Ransome

Apr17

Pigeon Post is the sixth in the twelve book series of novels about a group of adventurous British children who call themselves the Swallows and the Amazons (and later the D’s are added). The children–John, Susan, Titty, and Roger (the Swallows); Peggy and Nancy Blackett (the Amazons); and Dorothea and Dick (the D’s)—are living what has most recently been named a “free-range childhood.” Their parents are responsible and supervising from a distance, but the children are allowed to camp, cook outdoors, sail boats, pretend, explore, hike, and climb with only minimal adult interference. The negotiations the children go through with their parents and other adults to enable them to do these things are an important and interesting part of the story.

In this installment of the Swallows’ and Amazons’ adventures, the children have decided to form a prospecting and mining company to find gold on the nearby High Topps, a stretch of high moors called “fells” in the book. Because of drought conditions and the danger of fires, the children must go through some extensive exploration and negotiation before they are allowed to actually camp near the High Topps instead of in the Blacketts’ garden, but once they actually make camp on the edge of the fells and begin to explore old, abandoned workings or mines for gold, the story really becomes exciting. The “pigeon post” comes into play because the children use three homing pigeons to stay in touch with their parents at home and send daily status updates to keep the adults informed and happy.

The book contains a lot of mining, engineering, and chemistry information. These children are adventurous children, but they are also studious and quite industrious. In this article at a website called allthingsransome.net, The Chemistry of Pigeon Post, a fan of Ransome’s books writes about the chemistry that is explicated and illustrated in the book. Of course, even the article contains a warning, as should the book itself, probably.

“An important caution: chemistry experiments can be very hazardous and shouldn’t be performed except under well controlled and supervised conditions and preferably in a well equipped laboratory. Reading about Dick making up aqua regia and pouring it on to his unknown powder in Captain Flint’s study makes me quiver! Things were certainly different back then when it came to chemical safety!”

I don’t know what the exact balance between freedom to explore and protection should be for children, but if our children nowadays are over-protected then Ransome’s children may well have been not protected enough. They certainly do some rather dangerous things in the book and manage to survive anyway.

Pigeon Post was the book that won for its author the first Carnegie Medal. The British Library Association presented Ransome with the inaugural Carnegie Medal at its annual conference in June 1936. I thoroughly enjoyed Pigeon Post, and I think my next Ransome read will be Winter Holiday, the fourth book in the series, which is also the book that introduces Dick and Dorothea Callum. (Yes, I’ve managed to read the books out of order.) I’ve already read: Swallows and Amazons, Swallowdale, Peter Duck, and Secret Water.

Henry James, b. April 15, 1843, d.

Apr15

“In Heaven there’ll be no algebra,
No learning dates or names,
But only playing golden harps
And reading Henry James.”
~Displayed at James’s home, Lambs House in Rye and said to have been written by Henry James’s nephew in the guest book there.

I doubt this little jingle is an accurate description of heaven, but if it were, then it would follow that even though such a heaven would be bereft of higher mathematics, it would involve a great deal of thinking. One can’t read Henry James without thinking, carefully. For instance, I found this excerpt of criticism by James, concerning William Morris’s poem The Life and Death of Jason, to be quite amusing after I thought about it and figured out what James was actually saying. (Maybe I liked it partly because I’m also not a fan of Mr. Swinburne.):

“Mr. Morris’s poem is ushered into the world with a very florid birthday speech from the pen of the author of the too famous Poems and Ballads,—a circumstance, we apprehend, in no small degree prejudicial to its success. But we hasten to assure all persons whom the knowledge of Mr. Swinburne’s enthusiasm may have led to mistrust the character of the work, that it has to our perception nothing in common with this gentleman’s own productions, and that his article proves very little more than that his sympathies are wiser than his performance. If Mr. Morris’s poem may be said to remind us of the manner of any other writer, it is simply of that of Chaucer; and to resemble Chaucer is a great safeguard against resembling Swinburne.”

I want to steal (borrow?) James’s template sometime and use it in my own reviews, for example: “XYZ fantasy novel reminds me of Tolkien and Lewis, and so even though its writing has been compared in reviews to that of contemporary and less talented fantasy authors, to resemble Tolkien and Lewis is a great safeguard against modernity.”

So happy birthday to Henry James, who resembles no other author, really, and has been called by readers and critics, the Master. His books and other works do require effort and some thought to be appreciated, but that’s certainly not a bad thing. It depends on the reader as to whether you think James is worth the effort.

Links and thinks for Henry James:

William Faulkner on Henry James: “One of the nicest old ladies I ever met.”

Ernest Hemingway on Henry James and his novels: “Knowing nothing about James, it seems to me to be the s–t.” Also, “he wrote nice but he lived pretty dull I think. Too dull maybe and wrote too nice about too dull.”

LOST Reading Project: The Turn of the Screw by Henry James.

Oscar Wilde: “Mr. Henry James writes fiction as if it were a painful duty.”

Christopher Beha, James and the Great YA Debate: “So few other writers offer the particular pleasures that James does.”

From Portrait of a Lady:

“It has made me better loving you. . . it has made me wiser, and easier, and brighter. I used to want a great many things before, and to be angry that I did not have them. Theoretically, I was satisfied. I flattered myself that I had limited my wants. But I was subject to irritation; I used to have morbid sterile hateful fits of hunger, of desire. Now I really am satisfied, because I can’t think of anything better. It’s just as when one has been trying to spell out a book in the twilight, and suddenly the lamp comes in. I had been putting out my eyes over the book of life, and finding nothing to reward me for my pains; but now that I can read it properly I see that it’s a delightful story.”

Top 10 Henry James novels by Michael Gorra, Publisher’s Weekly.

Henry James on life: “To take what there is in life and use it, without waiting forever in vain for the preconceived, to dig deep into the actual and get something out of that; this, doubtless, is the right way to live.”

And, finally, a quotation that seems to epitomize James’s approach to writing and to the United States. (He moved to England and lived most of his adult life there.): “I hate American simplicity. I glory in the piling up of complications of every sort. If I could pronounce the name James in any different or more elaborate way I should be in favour of doing it.”

If Mr. James’s novels may be said to remind us of the manner of any other writer, it is not an American author. And to resemble no other American author is a great safeguard against resembling Hemingway.

Born on This Day: Erik Christian Haugaard, 1923-2009

Apr13

Born on April 13, 1923 in Denmark, Erik Christian Haugaard eventually made his way to the United States and became a writer, even though he left school at the age of fifteen and left Denmark at the age of seventeen. When the Germans invaded Denmark in 1940, young Erik Haugaard got out of Denmark just ahead of the invasion on the last ship out of Danish waters to the United States. After that he traveled some in the U.S., joined the Royal Canadian Air Force, went to college some during and after the war was over, and then began to write. An editor at Houghton Mifflin suggested that he rewrite a manuscript he had submitted and make it into a story for children. And so he wrote his first book for children, Hakon of Rogen’s Saga, a novel about the medieval ruler, Earl Hakon of Norway.

I have five of Haugaard’s thirteen or so books in my library:

Hakon of Rogen’s Saga and A Slave’s Tale are both set in Viking times, after the Christianization of Norway, but in a time when the pagan gods and customs were still in conflict with the new Christian way of looking at life. Leif the Unlucky, also set among the Vikings, is a fictionalized look at the Greenland colony of Lief Ericksson, an attempt at nation-building that did not turn out well.

Orphans of the Wind is a U.S. civil war sailing story. Haugaard’s books tend to be about young boys or girls getting caught up in the dangers and travails of war.

The Samurai’s Tale is one of three books that Haugaard wrote about ancient Japan and the samurai. The other two (that I don’t own) are The Boy and the Samurai and The Revenge of the Forty-Seven Samurai.

Cromwell’s Boy is about a young man living during the English civil war of Oliver Cromwell’s day. It’s a sequel to the book, A Messenger for Parliament, a book that’s on my wishlist.

The Little Fishes, another war story that I do not own, is set in occupied Italy with a twelve year old orphaned beggar named Guido as the protagonist.

The Haugaard book that I most recently acquired and read is titled Chase Me, Catch Nobody. Set in pre-war Germany and Denmark, Chase Me, Catch Nobody features a fourteen year old Danish schoolboy who must be at least a semi-autobiographical character. Erik Hansen (not Haugaard) narrates this story of a school trip to Nazi Germany in 1937. Erik in the book describes himself in much the same way that author Erik Haugaard reminisces about his younger self in a 1979 interview I read. Erik Haugaard the author and Erik Hansen the character are both from upper middle class backgrounds, indifferent students, ambitious to write poetry, and as adolescents “a bit of a snob.” Haugaard says in the interview that even as an adult writer what he most needs and craves from an editor is praise, praise, and more praise. Erik Hansen is self-aware enough to know and tell the reader that he is somewhat ashamed of his parents and their “lack of imagination” and middle class values, but that he enjoys being wealthy and generous just like his father and that he and his father indeed share share many of the same faults, “which is why we didn’t get along.”

I thought the book, rated YA for some fumbling talk about sex and for the very adolescent attitudes expressed in story, was very insightful as the characters, mostly Erik and his friend Nikolai, gained more and more insight into their own characters and their own ability to act with courage and conviction. The boys are tested by an encounter with a stranger in a grey raincoat who entrusts Erik with a mysterious package to deliver just before the man is arrested by the Gestapo. Then, later in the book, Erik and Nikolai are given another mission to complete that will require them to face great danger in order to possibly save a life. And through the book while Erik and his friend act with courage and determination, they are also typical teens, idealistic, sarcastic, foolhardy, convinced of their own invincibility and at the same time vulnerable and unsure of their own beliefs and convictions.

I was reminded of this book, The Boys Who Challenged Hitler: Knud Pedersen and the Churchill Club by Phillip Hoose, and I think these two books would be quite a good pair to read in tandem for a teen book club or discussion group. I wrote that The Boys Who Challenged Hitler was “an interesting and exciting portrait of youthful zeal and even foolhardiness which can sometimes trump an adult over-abundance of caution and planning” and the same could be said of Chase Me, Catch Nobody. But the discussion could also cover the possibility that such youthful enthusiasm and lack of respect for possible consequences or for the sheer enormity of the evil that was Naziism could bring many lives to ruin, as it indeed did in some places and situations in the Allied resistance during World War II.

I recommend Haugaard’s books for young adult readers who enjoy a challenging story that will cause them to think about character and philosophy and politics and see these subjects through the eyes of different people from themselves. However, as Haugaard says in the afore-mentioned interview it is much easier to see what’s wrong with the world than it is to see what’s right or to find solutions to the problems. Perhaps just seeing today’s political and social problems in a different historical setting such as medieval Japan or a Viking colony in Greenland will make us see those issues in a new way and begin to understand the path toward new solutions.

Erik Christian Haugaard also made his own translation of Hans Christian Andersen’s stories, published by Doubleday as A Complete Fairy Tales and Stories by Hans Christian Anderson, translated by Erik Christian Haugaard. The translation project took Haugaard three years to finish.

“I don’t know whether my own books will survive, but if I have saved any of Andersen’s stories from obscurity, I have made a contribution to English literature. Who Wouldn’t be grateful for having had such an opportunity!” ~Erik Christian Haugaard, interview in Language Arts, Vol. 56, No. 5 (May 1979), pp. 549-561.

Beverly Cleary, b. April 12, 1916

Apr12

Beverly Cleary, creator of Ramona Quimby, Henry Huggins, Ralph S. Mouse, and many other beloved characters, is 102 years old today.

Ramona-isms:

“She was not a slowpoke grownup. She was a girl who could not wait. Life was so interesting she had to find out what happened next.”
~Ramona the Pest

“Words were so puzzling. Present should mean a present just as attack should mean to stick tacks in people.”
~Ramona the Pest

Ramona: “Why can’t we be a happy family?”
Mr. Quimby: “I have news for you, Ramona, we are a happy family. . . No family is perfect. Get that idea out of your head. And nobody is perfect either. All we can do is work at it. And we do.”
~Ramona and Her Father

“Ramona was the sort of girl who was always early because something might happen that she didn’t want to miss.”
~Ramona’s World

Other posts and articles about Beverly Cleary and her wonderful books:
Beverly Cleary, Age 100, The New Yorker.
Beverly Cleary on Turning 100, Washington Post.
Beverly Cleary is Turning 100, but She Has Always Thought Like a Kid, NPR.
If you like Ramona Quimby by Beverly Cleary . . .

Christopher Smart, b. April 11, 1722, d.1771

Apr11

April is National Poetry Month.

Christopher Smart, a 16th century poet and writer of popular songs, was said to be mentally disturbed, confined for some period of time to a mental institution, but nevertheless a talented poet and perhaps just the unfortunate victim of enemies who wanted him out of the way. He wrote a famous free verse poem called Jubilate Agno, part of which is about his cat, Jeoffry, and how said cat worshipped the Lord. The book pictured below is one I have in my library, and it contains the part of Jubilate Agno that is about Jeoffry the cat. Smart also wrote a poem called A Song to David about David and the Psalms and how God speaks through the psalms of David.

Excerpt from Smart’s poem, A Song to David

Glorious the sun in mid career;
Glorious th’ assembled fires appear;
Glorious the comet’s train:
Glorious the trumpet and alarm;
Glorious th’ almighty stretch’d-out arm;
Glorious th’ enraptur’d main:

Glorious the northern lights a-stream;
Glorious the song, when God’s the theme;
Glorious the thunder’s roar:
Glorious hosanna from the den;
Glorious the catholic amen;
Glorious the martyr’s gore:

Glorious—-more glorious is the crown
Of Him that brought salvation down
By meekness, call’d thy Son;
Thou that stupendous truth believ’d,
And now the matchless deed’s achiev’d,
Determin’d, dar’d, and done.

Samuel Johnson on Christopher Smart, from The Life of Johnson:

“Madness frequently discovers itself merely by unnecessary deviation from the usual modes of the world. My poor friend Smart showed the disturbance of his mind, by falling upon his knees, and saying his prayers in the street, or in any other unusual place. Now although, rationally speaking, it is greater madness not to pray at all, than to pray as Smart did, I am afraid there are so many who do not pray, that their understanding is not called in question.”

Concerning this unfortunate poet, Christopher Smart, Johnson had, at another time, the following conversation with Dr. Burney:

BURNEY. “How does poor Smart do, Sir; is he likely to recover?”
JOHNSON. “It seems as if his mind had ceased to struggle with the disease; for he grows fat upon it.”
BURNEY. “Perhaps, Sir, that may be from want of exercise.”
JOHNSON. “No, Sir; he has partly as much exercise as he used to have, for he digs in the garden. Indeed, before his confinement, he used for exercise to walk to the alehouse; but he was carried back again. I did not think he ought to be shut up. His infirmities were not noxious to society. He insisted on people praying with him; and I’d as lief pray with Kit Smart as any one else. Another charge was, that he did not love clean linen; and I have no passion for it.”

I’d as lief pray with Kit Smart as any one else. Indeed.

Julius Caesar by John Gunther

Apr10

Since most of what I know about Julius Caesar comes from Shakespeare (and a little GB Shaw, which I assume is mostly fiction), I learned a lot about the life and times of Mr. Caesar from reading this Landmark history book for middle grade children. Yes, his surname really was Caesar; it became a term for a ruler or king after Julius and Augustus made it famous.

Julius Caesar was a successful and intrepid general and an excellent and shrewd politician; that’s how he rose to the place where he was a threat to the Roman republic and ripe for assassination. I didn’t really realize that he won so many important battles or subjugated so much territory. I also didn’t know about, and still don’t understand, the intricate and corrupt state of Roman politics in the time of Julius Caesar. Caesar had to weave his way through some labyrinthine politics that would challenge a modern American political consultant or campaign manager. And I thought our political system was bad. If Washington, D.C. is a swamp, Rome was a swamp in which people actually died over their failure to back the right candidate for tribune or consul. And that’s before Julius Caesar died for being so ambitious. (Apparently, Sulla was a bad dude.)

I learned or had confirmed a few more things about Julius Caesar:

~ He liked the Jews and gave them special privileges to practice their religion in Rome.
~ According to Gunther, it was on Caesar’s watch that the library of Alexandria burned down. (Although Wikipedia says no one knows exactly when it burned and that there may have been several separate fires over the space of hundreds of years.)
~ Caesar did have a fling with Cleopatra, and she did get delivered to his headquarters in a pile of rugs. (GBS was right about that.) Egyptian politics were just as complicated, devious, and deadly as Roman politics.
~ The Rubicon is (was?) a shallow, insignificant river, but crossing the Rubicon, the boundary of his authority to lead an army, was a momentous decision for Caesar, the beginning of the end for Julius Caesar and for the Roman Republic.
~ Julius Caesar used the phrase “Veni, vidi, vici” in a letter to the Roman Senate after he had achieved a quick victory in his short war against Pharnaces II of Pontus at the Battle of Zela.

Gunther leans heavily on Shakespeare in the concluding chapters of the book, but I think both Gunther and Shakepeare were leaning heavily on Plutarch and Suetonius for the facts on Julius Caesar’s life, his death and the aftermath of his assassination. According to Gunther, “Friends, Romans, countrymen” was an actual speech that Mark Antony gave at Caesar’s funeral, and it was indeed a real barnburner. Portia really did commit suicide by swallowing burning coals (ouch!), and Brutus truly was a noble but indecisive character. According to Gunther, everything went pretty much the way Shakepeare wrote it many years later. (Except for Caesar’s ghost, which probably didn’t appear; I’m not much of a believer in ghosts, and Gunther doesn’t mention any spooks.)

This book would be an excellent prequel to watching Shakepeare’s Julius Caesar. The movie version with Marlon Brando as Mark Antony is an excellent film, even if it is in black and white.

To learn more about the Landmark series of biographies and history books for young people, check out this podcast episode, Parts 1 and 2, of Plumfield Moms, What Are Landmark Books? Why Do They Matter?