Source of book: Borrowed from my wife
I am participating in an online book club, hosted by my
friend Carrie, who has a popular book blog, Reading to Know.
This month, the selection was A Girl of the Limberlost by Gene Stratton Porter. Carrie’s review
can be found here.
I will admit being heavily prejudiced against this book, not
because it is essentially a female oriented book, but because of an early
experience with a truly dreadful movie version. (I’m pretty sure it was the
1990 version, but I have no intention of watching enough to confirm it.)
The acting was pretty bad, but what sealed the deal was the
violin. I will admit to being a complete snob when it comes to music in the
movies. It has always puzzled me that careful attention is paid to detail:
clothes, sets, accents, and so much more; but few movies bother to make string
instrument playing look realistic. Any movie that does, earns my respect. (A
particularly great example of this is the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice,
in which a country band is portrayed perfectly – including the use of a
serpent. I also love how Mr. Collins reminds me of a spider as he dances. Start at 3:00 for this part.)
In the movie of Limberlost,
a young lady plays the first movement of Vivaldi’s A Minor violin concerto. The
“playing” is so execrable that it does not even attempt to coordinate the bow movement to the notes. Quite simply
the worst I have ever seen.
What makes this completely inexcusable is that the A Minor
Concerto is one of the most well known student pieces in the repertoire. I
learned it at age nine or ten, and performed it a wedding or two. I really
loved it, and did my best to make it sing. But I am hardly unique. Just about
any intermediate violin student in the last, say, 300 years, has learned this
piece. Whoever produced this movie could have called up any violin teacher in the area and found someone who could
competently “string synch” this piece. Instead, they had someone play whole
notes and overdubbed. How stupid did this person think the audience was?
A quick YouTube search turns up several dozen performances
by young people of various skill levels. I love this version:
Okay, maybe I should say something about the book. I would
have skipped it except that my wife encouraged me to go ahead and read it. It
was, in fact, worth reading, despite a few moments of awkward, “this sure seems
dated” thoughts.
The general plot is in the vein of Horatio Alger stories: a
young girl overcomes adversity to achieve success, and eventually love.
With that said, there were some things I liked and some
things I disliked. First of all, I found Elnora and her mother to be
interesting characters. Elnora is an abused and unloved child, but is strong in
an unstereotypical way. In some ways, it is easier to imagine her as a boy,
because she channels her inner pain into motivation and anger rather than passiveness
and hurt. This would, in my opinion, tend to be a more typically male reaction,
although I can think of a couple of extraordinarily strong women that I know
that might have the same approach. Were I in Elnora’s position, however, I
would never have waited around long enough for my mother to come around. I
would have been long gone with no forwarding address.
In contrast, Elnora’s mother, Kate, is interesting as a
bitter woman, who is soured rather than mellowed by life’s hardship. She seemed
initially to be a fairly realistic portrayal, but I didn’t quite buy into her
transformation. From a man’s point of view, it seems odd that she could hate
Elnora right up until she learned that her late husband had been unfaithful,
and then switch to loving Elnora. To me, the fact of the affair seems
irrelevant to the love for a child, either one way or the other. Perhaps a
woman might have a different opinion. Perhaps it might feel differently to a
man regarding a wife who died in childbirth. I can’t entirely make up my mind
about it, but I did enjoy Kate as a character.
I also liked the portrayals of Wesley Sinton (the male half
of the kind hearted neighbor couple) and Hart Henderson (who seems to be
someone out of an F. Scott Fitzgerald novel.)
In general, I found the book to be a bit “feminist” in its
worldview. I mean this in the best possible way. Elnora doesn’t wait around for
a man to rescue her. She earns her education by excruciatingly hard work and
her own wits. She earns the respect of her peers, not by manipulation, but by
straightforward self-confidence and honesty. While she is assisted by others,
she takes pride in her independence, and takes full responsibility for herself.
In many ways, she is a thoroughly admirable character – much more so than the
average heroine from her time – or even our modern times.
I also liked that Elnora refused to take Phillip until the
right time. Although I’m not sure it was realistic for her to wait until Edith
admitted defeat (such as Edith rarely do), I loved that she would not sell
herself cheaply. She knew her own worth, and was wise enough to know that
unless she was desired for her own sake, to the exclusion of all others, she
would not be happy with her spouse. I admire women like that (and married one),
and hope that my daughters will have the strength of character to do the same.
On the other hand, the author assumes that the reader is
familiar with characters from her other books. “Freckles,” for example, has his
own book, and the reader is simply assumed to know who he is. One wishes that
the author had devoted a paragraph or so to introduce him.
I also did find the moralizing to be a bit heavy-handed. The
book is a product of its time (1912), and must be evaluated in that light. In
general, much of the literature of the Victorian and Edwardian Eras,
particularly that directed at children and young people, tended to preach a
bit.
I absolutely could not fathom a character like Edith Carr
ever redeeming herself. Perhaps I am a cynical divorce attorney, but my
experience would indicate that she would remain embittered, and proceed to make
her future husband pay for all her disappointment in losing Phillip. On the
plus side, she seems destined to keep a lawyer or two employed. But the
templates of the era would graciously allow Edith to grow and change, and thus
make amends for her prior bad behavior.
As a final note, I would mention my mixed feelings regarding
the use of the violin as a plot device. On the one hand, the author at least
gives lip service to the many hundreds of hours necessary to master the
instrument. On the other, she falls prey to the popular misconception of the
musical savant, who masters the technique easily and early. Violin, and indeed
all instruments, are difficult to play well. Strings in particular are
unforgiving for the first few years. Even those of us who have enough talent to
play professionally have devoted hours and hours, day after day, week after
week, and year after year, to learn our craft. One in a million musicians,
perhaps, is a Mozart: able to attain proficiency with a minimum of seeming
effort. The rest of us have bought our skill with our time, our sweat, and our
tears. If a musician ever tells you that he or she hasn’t hated the instrument
at some point, you are probably being sold the Brooklyn Bridge.
I think this particular lie is a disservice to aspiring musicians. If you want
to master music, you will cry at some point. You will curse the day you picked
it up. However, if you give it your time, sweat, and passion, it will
eventually unfold its rewards.
Anyway, Limberlost
is a worthwhile book, and one I will encourage my children to read as they get
older.