Reading New England: Mayflower Discussion Part II

It’s time for the second half of our discussion of the Reading New England readalong book, Mayflower by Nathaniel Philbrick. Thanks again to Katie of Doing Dewey for co-hosting this discussion with me — she came up with the following questions for Parts III and IV of the book, and you can read her answers over on her blog.

Whether you read along with us or not, I hope you enjoyed our discussion! Once more, the questions are listed below by themselves, and then repeated with my own answers. A linkup follows for your own posts, or please feel free to join the conversation in the comments.

Having finished the author’s more nuanced portrayal of the pilgrims’ story, do you think either the founding myths (“the time-honored tradition of how the Pilgrims came to symbolize all that is good about America and the now equally familiar modern tale of how the evil Europeans annihilated the innocent Native Americans”) is accurate?
Do you think the conflict between the European settlers and the Native Americans was inevitable?
In the conflict, do you think one side clearly had the moral high ground?
Was there anything that particularly surprised you in the second half of the book?
Overall, what did you think of the book?

Having finished the author’s more nuanced portrayal of the pilgrims’ story, do you think either the founding myths (“the time-honored tradition of how the Pilgrims came to symbolize all that is good about America and the now equally familiar modern tale of how the evil Europeans annihilated the innocent Native Americans”) is accurate?

As with most myths we create for ourselves, there’s some truth in both of them, but it limits our understanding to put things in such black and white terms. This book helped me to see how the Pilgrims were a flawed and fallible set of human beings, and how their relationship with the Native Americans involved phases of cooperation, communication, and mutual support, as well as theft and exploitation.

Do you think the conflict between the European settlers and the Native Americans was inevitable?

I think some kind of conflict was probably inevitable as the European population grew and they wanted to occupy more land, although it could have been delayed for quite a while by a more diplomatic handling of the situation. It’s hard to imagine another alternative — at the time intermarriage and mixing of the races would have been utterly unthinkable, so the only way the Natives could survive would either be to convert to Christianity and act as servants of the settlers, or leave for another territory. Which, as we know, would eventually be taken over by Europeans as well.

In the conflict, do you think one side clearly had the moral high ground?

I could sympathize with Philip’s desperation as his people’s way of life was threatened, but his actions and those of his troops were often not very noble or well-judged — from impulsive decisions, botched alliances, and tactical errors, to running away when things got sticky. Lashing out against the Europeans must have seemed emotionally satisfying, but as it turned out it wasn’t in their best interests.

On the other hand, though the settlers didn’t consciously instigate the conflict, they should have been more aware of the way their actions were pushing Philip to retaliate. And once they got into the fighting they were pretty ruthless. The scene of a fort full of women and children being destroyed was particularly gruesome. It was also interesting to note that the Indians didn’t rape female captives, as was standard practice with European warfare. Although there seemed to be a few Pilgrims who saw the Indians as human beings and potential allies, most treated them in a peremptory and insensitive way.

Was there anything that particularly surprised you in the second half of the book?

I was surprised at how devastating the conflict was for the Native population of the region. As well as killing off a huge number, it also spurred the English to sell the survivors into slavery on the Caribbean sugar plantations (which was tantamount to death). It really backfired on them — and on the English as well, who now lacked the friendly Indian allies to protect them from hostile tribes. It was an event that had a major impact on our early history, yet we don’t seem to hear much about it.

Overall, what did you think of the book?

I found it very educational but sometimes a bit hard to slog through, particularly in the “War” section — reading about wars and battles is generally difficult for me as I tend to lose interest in the details of tactics and troop movements. Sometimes I had a hard time keeping track of who was who with the large cast of characters and many different Indian tribes.

However, I do recommend the book for anyone who wants to learn more about this period of American history, and especially how the Plymouth colony evolved after that first iconic year. It was also interesting for me to imagine early colonial life in the region close to where I now live, with many mentions of places I visit or drive through. I will look at them with new eyes now!

Have you read Mayflower? What did you think? Link up your posts at Doing Dewey, or join the discussion in the comments!

Reading New England: Mayflower Discussion Part I

Welcome to Part I of the Reading New England/Nonfiction Book Club discussion of Nathaniel Philbrick’s Mayflower. I’m so pleased that Katie of Doing Dewey agreed to co-host this readalong with me! Please hop over to her blog to see her answers to the following questions, which were written by me after reading parts I and II of the book. Katie will create another set of questions about parts III and IV of the book, to be posted on December 23.

The questions are listed below by themselves, and then repeated with my own answers. A linkup follows for your own posts, or please feel free to join the discussion in the comments.

What was your previous understanding of the Pilgrims’ journey and landing in North America? Did Philbrick’s presentation change or amplify anything for you?
In his preface, Philbrick states that his initial impression of the period was “bounded by two conflicting preconceptions: the time-honored tradition of how the Pilgrims came to symbolize all that is good about America and the now equally familiar modern tale of how the evil Europeans annihilated the innocent Native Americans,” but that he found that the reality was less predictable than that. Given that we’re only talking about the first half of the book so far, have you found him successful in conveying a more complex view?
Do you think that any characteristics or concerns of the Pilgrims still persist in our national character today? How do you see these manifesting?
The Pilgrims’ relationship with the Native Americans, and specifically with Massasoit, was crucial to their survival. What stood out for you in this aspect of the narrative? Were there any surprises, or anything particularly interesting or disturbing?
Do you think the title “Mayflower” fits the book so far? If not, would you have a different title to suggest?

pilgrimswinter — The Pilgrims’ First Winter – 19th century engraving

What was your previous understanding of the Pilgrims’ journey and landing in North America? Did Philbrick’s presentation change or amplify anything for you?

My knowledge of this period in history was scanty and vague. I knew some English Puritans went to America in order to be able to worship as they wished, and that they sailed on a ship called the Mayflower — it didn’t occur to me to inquire further into the details. I was surprised at how perilous a scheme it really was, with difficulties finding a seaworthy ship, delays resulting in a late start, arrival in an unexpectedly cold winter, and differences of opinion among the passengers and crew. I didn’t realize they didn’t even mean to land in present-day Massachusetts, or that they tried to sail south and couldn’t pass the treacherous shoals. I also didn’t know that the Puritans were backed by commercial interests, which expected them to make a profit rather than simply sustain themselves. These were just some of the new insights that I gained — so, yes, I’d say my understanding was greatly expanded and enriched.

In his preface, Philbrick states that his initial impression of the period was “bounded by two conflicting preconceptions: the time-honored tradition of how the Pilgrims came to symbolize all that is good about America and the now equally familiar modern tale of how the evil Europeans annihilated the innocent Native Americans,” but that he found that the reality was less predictable than that. Given that we’re only talking about the first half of the book so far, have you found him successful in conveying a more complex view?

I did think Philbrick did a good job here, with the limitation (as he admits himself) that the historical record comes to us through the white settlers; we don’t have the first-hand Native accounts that would help to create a truly rounded view. The uneasy, fragile alliance between the Pilgrims and some of their Native neighbors was not a simple thing, and I’m curious to see in the second half what happens as it disintegrates.

Do you think that any characteristics or concerns of the Pilgrims still persist in our national character today? How do you see these manifesting?

I think the twin demons of fanatical separatism and commercial greed, both of which sped the Pilgrims on their way, are still with us today. A certain inability to work with and adjust to one’s neighbors, independence to the nth power, is showing itself in the ugliest and most divisive way in the political sphere, while our unsustainable consumer-driven lifestyle is driving us to the edge of environmental collapse.

On the other hand, the ability to imagine a different future, strike out against incredible odds, and create something new is also a very real part of our heritage, and one that we need to transform into a positive impulse that benefits all of humanity instead of just one group.

The Pilgrims’ relationship with the Native Americans, and specifically with Massasoit, was crucial to their survival. What stood out for you in this aspect of the narrative? Were there any surprises, or anything particularly interesting or disturbing?

profile_rock_assonet — Profile Rock in Assonet, MA, said to be an image of Massasoit.

I thought it was telling that almost the Pilgrims’ first act upon setting foot on New World soil was to steal a stash of Native corn, intending to pay for it later, but not doing so until confronted with their illicit action. That’s another national tendency, I’d say.

I’d heard (vaguely, again) of Squanto as a helper and interpreter for the Pilgrims, but I didn’t know about his bid to replace Massasoit as leader of the tribe, or about the rival warrior, Hobbamock. I though it was fascinating that both were named for the Native spirit of darkness and death, and that the self-righteous Pilgrims in a sense had to make a contract with the devil (according to their own worldview).

This culminated in the massacre of the rival Native faction at the end of this part of the book, which started with Miles Standish’s extremely dishonorable act of killing enemies he had invited for a meal. It made a rather sobering counterpoint to our Thanksgiving meal celebrations.

Do you think the title “Mayflower” fits the book so far? If not, would you have a different title to suggest?

I think “Mayflower” was a bit misleading as a title, as the journey on the ship was a relatively small part of the book. I think Philbrick meant it as a metaphor for the overall journey of the Pilgrims and their colony, and in that sense it might work. Perhaps the book could have been called “The Pilgrims” or “Plymouth”? “Mayflower” is more inviting, and carries connotations of spring growth and new life, but since the second part of the book is going to involve an incredibly bloody conflict I’m not sure that’s appropriate.

Have you read Mayflower? What did you think? Link up your posts below, or join the discussion in the comments!
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Reading New England readalong announcement

As my year-long Reading New England challenge draws to a close, I’d like to finish with a book we can all read together. After mulling over the many unread books on my list, I decided on Mayflower by Nathaniel Philbrick, a nonfiction account of the first sixty years of the Plymouth colony, which ended with the bloody conflict known as King Philip’s War.

I chose this title because I’ve never read Philbrick and wanted to sample some of this acclaimed New England writer’s work, and also because I was interested in learning more about a period of history that has been so endlessly replayed in our national consciousness — in school, it felt like we started history class over every year with the Pilgrims — without being truly understood. I’m particularly hoping that Philbrick will bring some new perspectives to the displacement of Native Americans, which tends to be glossed over in our American celebrations of liberty and thanksgiving. It should form an important complement to some other books I’ve read about the New England roots of slavery.

I’m happy to announce that this readalong will be in conjunction with the Nonfiction Book Club hosted each month by Katie of Doing Dewey. During December, we will be posting discussion questions that can be taken up in the comments or in your own posts.

Our discussion questions will be posted as follows:

Dec 11th – Part I and II Discussion Questions

Dec 22nd – Part III and IV Discussion Questions

Thanks so much to Katie for being willing to co-host with me! If you enjoy the readalong, do visit her blog each month for more wonderful nonfiction reading opportunities. During this month in particular, she’s coordinating Nonfiction November for even more celebration and sharing.

So get your copy ready and join us next month. I’m looking forward to some great discussion.

Reading New England: Two freedom fighters

**Esther Forbes, Johnny Tremain (1942)
M.T. Anderson, The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, Traitor to the Nation (2006, 2008)**

A few weeks ago, I visited the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, where there is a room full of portraits of prominent Boston revolutionaries. Samuel Adams, John Hancock, Paul Revere, Joseph Warren, and others — captured on canvas, they look down at us with a cool yet challenging gaze. What would they think of our political antics today? What do we understand as the legacy they left us?

I had just met many of these legendary figures in the pages of Esther Forbes’s Newbery-award-winning novel, Johnny Tremain. Somehow I had avoided this well-known classic throughout my school days, but now I was swept up into the story of apprentice silversmith Johnny, the accident that changes his life, and his encounters with the Sons of Liberty and the events leading up to the first shots fired in the War of Independence. It deserves the acclaim it has received, for it’s a vividly told, strongly characterized tale that brings a place and time to vibrant life.

2016-07-21 10.52.40 — Paul Revere’s pensive portrait by John Singleton Copley (Boston Museum of Fine Arts, photo by me)

Even though it was published as a children’s book, and would probably now be labeled as “YA,” I think I enjoyed it far more now than I would have as a child, when the central character of Johnny would have had limited appeal for me, and I would have been more confused than inspired by much of the historical detail. But other children, with different interests than mine, may have a different response; this is truly a book that defies age limitations and definitions. Read it young, or read it old, but do read it. It’s a wonderful exploration of themes of friendship, loyalty, courage, forgiveness, love, and self-transformation.

Yet there is something missing in Forbes’s account. Though black servants and “handmaidens” appear briefly in the narrative, and once or twice there is a reference to “slaves,” there is no serious acknowledgement of the fact that the vaunted fight for liberty was undertaken with a full acceptance and even dependence on black slavery, which (as my recent reading of New England Bound made clear) was woven deeply into the economy and social structure of all the colonies, north and south.

Forbes puts the most stirring speech of the book in the mouth of a man some of the other freedom fighters consider a madman, and this may be her oblique nod to the irony that underlies the whole event. As James Otis asserts that they are fighting “so that a man can stand up” — implying any human being, of any race, with dignity and integrity — most of the other revolutionaries turn away without comment. His words move Johnny, though, as they were meant to move the readers of Forbes’s time who were engaged in another war against an even more terrible tyranny, and they resound into our own time as an ideal to strive toward. But do they really represent what the Boston leaders thought? How could they engage in a struggle for liberty while actively subjugating and oppressing other human beings?

This irony is brought to the fore and engaged with in a complex way in a two-part novel by M.T. Anderson, The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, Traitor to the Nation. Octavian is born into slavery in a Boston academy where scholars raise him in a bizarre experimental environment. The goal is to see whether Africans can attain the heights of European culture — or else, when the academy’s patronage changes hands, to prove that they cannot.

Regardless of the goal, the fact remains that Octavian, his mother, and their fellow slaves are treated as things rather than as people, objects that can be exchanged and priced like any other item at a market stall. When Octavian realizes this, he must break away and begin his own fight for liberty. His journey takes him into the camps of both armies, where he finds that neither has any interest in his personal liberation, but only in using him for political and military expediency. It’s up to him to seek his own precarious path toward freedom.

Anderson writes in a remarkably fluent eighteenth-century style that intersperses Octavian’s first-person account with letters, diaries, and proclamations in various voices and modes. It’s a virtuoso performance that brilliantly evokes the liveliness and erudition of the literature of the period, and I enjoyed it very much, especially in the first volume, before it becomes too much like a parlor trick.

A somewhat inaccurate contemporary painting of the Battle of Bunker Hill (Boston Museum of Fine Arts, photo by me)

I did wonder, though, how the intended audience of this avowedly YA novel would receive it. As a teenager I would probably have been as mystified as I was by Jane Austen and Samuel Johnson, and not persisted very far. The scenes of combat, murder, torture, rape, and other acts of violence would also have been hard for me to take, had I been able to understand what was going on. But again, maybe that’s just me — perhaps teen readers of today, with stronger stomachs than mine, will be undaunted by the mountains of arcane vocabulary words, and be pulled along by the gripping plot and the truly revolutionary ideas it embodies. In any case, adult readers should not be put off by the YA label; this is another book that has no upper age limit.

Today, as many Americans are clamoring to subject themselves to a tyrant far more devious and unprincipled than poor old George III ever was, and as our “free country” continues to reveal its dark tendency towards oppression and domination, both of these books have much to teach us. Each of us has a chance, now, to truly “stand up.” We will do so not through unthinking slogans and rhetoric, nor by blaming and demonization of others, but by means of the inner fight for freedom that conquers self-interest and embraces humility, compassion, and reverence.

Will a day come when we no longer callously allow our life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness to depend upon the suffering of others? May the struggles of Johnny and Octavian and their comrades inspire us in this most decisive battle. More than ever, our future depends on it.

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Reading New England: A Visit to Amesbury with Author Edith Maxwell

When I heard of Edith Maxwell’s new “Quaker midwife” mystery series, I was immediately intrigued. What a fun way to investigate a corner of New England history — the series is set in late nineteenth century Amesbury, Massachusetts, a former mill town at the mouth of the Merrimack River north of Boston — from an unusual angle.

In Delivering the Truth, Quaker midwife Rose Carroll becomes a suspect when a difficult carriage factory manager is killed after the factory itself is hit by an arsonist. Struggling with being less than a perfect Friend, Rose delivers the baby of the factory owner’s mistress even while the owner’s wife is also seven months pregnant. After another murder, Rose calls on her strengths as a counselor and problem solver to help bring the killers to justice before they destroy the town’s carriage industry and the people who run it.

I enjoyed the character of Rose, an intelligent and caring young woman, and was fascinated by all the details of her midwifery practice. I also loved learning more about the Quaker community and about poet and abolitionist John Greenleaf Whittier, a real-life citizen of Amesbury who appears in the book. The story is well-paced and keeps you guessing as Rose races to try to find the killer before there is more loss of life. I sometimes was distracted by a modern-sounding word or phrase, but the language in general flows easily and serves the storytelling.

Maxwell’s love for and knowledge of her historic home town are especially evident in the way she brings it to life on the page. I’m looking forward to a visit some day, but until then I’m so happy that the author agreed to share a description of a recent tour she gave to celebrate the book launch. Enjoy this glimpse of Rose’s world, and I do hope that you’ll look into her adventures — book two is coming in 2017.

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Because my new historical mystery, Delivering the Truth, takes place in the northeastern Massachusetts town where I live, I decided to create an historical walking tour to help launch the book two months ago. I ordered up a custom-made Quaker dress for myself from a local seamstress, made myself a bonnet, acquired an apron, and we were off!

Many of the buildings still standing in Amesbury were already built and in use in 1888 when my Quaker midwife Rose Carroll is walking around delivering babies and solving crimes. I started the tour in Market Square in front of one of the many Hamilton Mills buildings. The square was the center of activity in any old New England town.

I was surprised, pleased, and a little concerned that sixty people showed up, but all went well. I introduced the book and the tour, and read a short scene that takes place as Rose walks through the square the morning after a disastrous fire.

We moved up Main Street, pausing to admire a mural that depicts carriages and life in the period when my book is set, as well as the lower falls of the Powow River rushing below, where one of my (fictional) bodies was found. We proceeded to the Josiah Bartlett statue. This tribute to the native son who was the first signer of the Declaration of Independence was dedicated on July 4, 1888 – which is the opening to my second book, Called to Justice (April 2017).

I led the group to the historic Friends Meetinghouse, a thriving Quaker church (mine, actually),which John Greenleaf Whittier help design and where he worshiped. I shared a short scene from the book before we moved on to Whittier’s home on Friend Street. My guests got a quick tour and listened to part of a scene with Rose talking to Whittier in his study.

We moved on, pausing to talk about the original library and the Opera House, neither still standing, then walked along the upper falls of the Powow, with a brief stop to talk about the mill industry and mill girls like Rose’s niece. The tour ended with a last reading in the amphitheater.

People seemed to very much enjoy the stroll, the history, and the readings. I conducted a second walk in late June during Amesbury Days, also well received. You can see a taste of the walk on my YouTube channel.

I’m delighted that the Amesbury Library and the Whittier Home are sponsoring Delivering the Truth as an All-Community Read this summer. Several high school teachers are also assigning it to their classes, which I’ll be visiting in the fall. The summer activities will culminate in a staged reading by two costumed actors of the four scenes in the book that feature both Rose and Whittier, and the event will take place in the Friends Meetinghouse.

Readers: What’s your favorite historical site? Have you ever gone on a walking tour connected with a mystery? Would your town like to host an All-Community Read of the book, too?

Edith Maxwell writes the Quaker Midwife Mysteries and the Local Foods Mysteries, the Country Store Mysteries (as Maddie Day), and the Lauren Rousseau Mysteries (as Tace Baker), as well as award-winning short crime fiction. Her short story, “A Questionable Death,” was nominated for a 2016 Agatha Award for Best Short Story. The tale features the 1888 setting and characters from her Quaker Midwife Mysteries series, which debuted with Delivering the Truth in April, 2016.

Maxwell is Vice-President of Sisters in Crime New England and Clerk of Amesbury Friends Meeting. She lives north of Boston with her beau and three cats, and blogs with the other Wicked Cozy Authors. You can find her on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, and at her web site, edithmaxwell.com.

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Reading New England: Ethan Frome

**Edith Wharton, Ethan Frome (1911)**

After reading one of the funniest books ever (according to multiple top ten lists, anyway), I moved on to what has to be one of the most depressing books of all time: Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton. I am SO glad that I was not made to read it in high school, because that probably would have put me off reading Wharton for the rest of my life. In notes referenced in my Modern Library edition, she avows that her purpose is to counter the rosy picture of old-fashioned New England put about by lightweights like Sarah Orne Jewett, and show the grim reality of isolated farms, suffocating snowfalls, and grinding poverty.

It’s a story of excruciating hopelessness, which we know from the start is going to end in disaster, due to a framing device in which our narrator, an outsider to the town of Starkfield, Massachusetts, meets the crippled Ethan Frome twenty-five years after his “smash-up.” Curious about Ethan’s history, he pieces it together and presents it as a third-person narrative before coming back to the present day for a heartrending epilogue. We never learn exactly how he accessed all the intimate details of Frome’s life, or how from being an engineer he suddenly morphed into a skilled novelist, but never mind that; the pull of the tragic story quickly draws us in.

What is the purpose of this grim tale, other than to de-romanticize our notions of rural New England? It illuminates the inner life of a man who, though in regular interaction with people through his work, has no one with whom to communicate his inmost essence, and thus lives in terrible loneliness. With New England moral logic, as soon as he finds a true mate — forbidden, because he is already married to a pathological tyrant — they both have to be put to death, figuratively if not literally.

Yet through the magic of storytelling, we readers now possess the secrets of Ethan’s soul, his passion, his hopes, his despair, his moral choices, and his ultimate, fatal mistake. What are we to do with this knowledge? Does it make us more likely to rage against or calmly bear our own fates? How would we act when trapped in an impossible situation?

I don’t have answers to these questions, but I think that perhaps Wharton meant with Ethan Frome to make us ask them. Unlike Ethan’s, our stories are not over, and we do have power to change, if not our outer circumstances, the inner attitudes and intentions with which we meet them. Gratitude for even the smallest acts of self-determination is one lesson we can take away from this bleak tale, and perhaps Ethan’s suffering will not then be in vain.

Classics Club List #25
Back to the Classics Challenge: Classic by a Woman Author
Reading New England: Massachusetts

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Reading New England: Massachusetts

And now we come to the heavyweight of New England, the dominant player in literature as well as commerce, culture, and history. Until I started working on the New England Book List, I had no idea how many Massachusetts books there were in contrast to the other states. I ended up dividing the list into Fiction and Nonfiction to make it a bit easier to navigate, and am sure that there are dozens more titles that could have been included, but I had to stop somewhere.

1814_BeaconHill_Boston_map_Hales — 1814 map of Beacon Hill, via Wikimedia Commons

Within this dominant state, Boston is clearly the dominant location. As the largest city in the region, and one of the most important cities in the land since colonial days, it’s only natural that it should play host to many of the narratives that have come down to us. Together with the neighboring towns that have become absorbed by its urban sprawl, including Concord, Lexington, and Cambridge, it’s been home to many of the giants of American literature: Hawthorne, Emerson, Alcott, Melville, Howells, James . . . the list of contemporary authors would be even longer. Boston was the first city in the country to designate an official literary district, which is well worth exploring in person or online.

256px-Cape_Cod_-_Landsat_7 — Cape Cod with the islands of Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket. NASA photo via Wikimedia Commons

Cape Cod and the islands offshore form another important literary location, with their connection to the whaling industry and their unique, fragile ecology. Here was launched the adventure of Moby Dick, Henry Beston spent a year in The Outermost House, and Dido Twite struggled to escape from Nightbirds on Nantucket. The coastal village of Salem, with its notorious history, has spawned more than its share of strange and dramatic stories, from The House of the Seven Gables to The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane. Meanwhile, the regions further inland, extending west to the Berkshires, also have many stellar books and authors to their credit; Edith Wharton’s home in Lenox is a landmark I especially want to visit, along with reading her classic novellas Ethan Frome and Summer.

Just looking at my personal TBR pile for the challenge, I see that I have Massachusetts books on hand to fit every category. These include:

The Art Forger (Fiction)
Marmee and Louisa (Nonfiction)
The Crucible (Poetry and Drama)
The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing (Children’s and YA)
Delivering the Truth (Mystery and SF)

I can hardly wait to get started on all of this wonderful reading, and I’m sure that I’ll be catching up for years to come. What are your favorite Massachusetts books?

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