The recommendation to read a book by Wright Morris came from Laura. He was born the day after my mother, on January 6, 1910 and lived ten years longer than she did. I hadn’t heard of him, although he was a prolific writer and won two National Book Awards. Several of his books are available on Kindle which tells you modern readers are still interested. This book is set in Nebraska where he was born, but not where he lived as an adult. The full title of the book is Plains Song, For Female Voices.
I was grateful for the introduction to the book, in particular for pointing out the oddness of the illustration that appears at the beginning of each chapter. At the center is a table in a corner with pictures propped on it, and curtains at the side that evoke the 1940s, and most interestingly, a door. The door is unconnected to hinges and could not be usable in its location. I was put on notice by this.
The stories of four generations of women are the focus, beginning with Cora when she married Emerson early in the 20th century. After the wedding, they set off from her home in Ohio to the farm where he lived with his brother in Nebraska. They must visit a doctor when Cora turned up with a wound to the bone in her knuckle caused by her biting her knuckle in reaction to the first (and only) time they had sex because it was so painful and traumatic. Emerson told the doctor that she was bitten by a horse.
Cora left her more sophisticated life in Ohio and adopted the silent, hard life on the farm, becoming excellent at making good butter, knowing where all the chickens laid their eggs. She was a contrast to her sister-in-law Belle who never stopped talking, could not be bothered to button her shirt, and was happy to care for Cora’s neglected child Madge. Belle’s daughter Sharon Rose enjoyed the continuous admiration of the slow-moving Madge, and was talented enough to leave the farm behind. Madge was happy to marry and provide the family with more girl children. Thirty years later Sharon came back from Wellesley for her Aunt Cora’s funeral and met a younger generation not willing to settle for the stultifying lives of their parents.
The telling of this story was unusual; all the characters seemed wrapped in cotton wool, moving in inexplicable ways, with tamped down emotions. In other words, the storytelling method was more reflective of how things really work in our lives. I often wonder why people make the choices they do and believe that books that clearly delineate a character may be satisfying, but that’s not how we act. I was awed by this writer’s willingness to write about lives in such a realistic way, going at his own pace.
I must note that this writer’s first name is usually a last name while the opposite is true of his last name.
Wright Morris, Plains Song, HarperCollins, 1980, 229 pages (I read the Kindle version).