Jamin Bogi reviewed Letters from an American farmer ; and, Sketches of eighteenth-century America by J. Hector St. John de Crèvecoeur (Penguin classics)
"I resemble, methinks, one of the stones of a ruined arch"
4 stars
An important book for those interested in very early American literature, the American Revolution, or New England & Mid-Atlantic history. For a reader not motivated by these concerns, the book will likely be interesting in part.
The phrase and sentence constructions seem perfectly understandable while also giving off the piquant aroma of the past. This book holds the earliest recorded instance of "Indian summer" and great, now-rare words like limitrophe, Pennamites, patibulary, cacoëthes, myrmidons, and more. Where we'd say "Cool your jets," a character here tells another to "Lower your top-gallants"!
In its particulars, the author presents a curious mix of reports on soil conditions, how Nantucketers bring in whales, stories of tricking bees into revealing their hives, religious musings, and the difficulties of keeping a farm going. Taken as a work in whole, the tone slides from optimistic to quite bitter.
Work hard on your farm, leave people alone, …
An important book for those interested in very early American literature, the American Revolution, or New England & Mid-Atlantic history. For a reader not motivated by these concerns, the book will likely be interesting in part.
The phrase and sentence constructions seem perfectly understandable while also giving off the piquant aroma of the past. This book holds the earliest recorded instance of "Indian summer" and great, now-rare words like limitrophe, Pennamites, patibulary, cacoëthes, myrmidons, and more. Where we'd say "Cool your jets," a character here tells another to "Lower your top-gallants"!
In its particulars, the author presents a curious mix of reports on soil conditions, how Nantucketers bring in whales, stories of tricking bees into revealing their hives, religious musings, and the difficulties of keeping a farm going. Taken as a work in whole, the tone slides from optimistic to quite bitter.
Work hard on your farm, leave people alone, all will be great, the author believes at first. But all was not great. We read of the horror of slavery (specifically as experienced in the South), the terror of frontier life during warfare with Indians, and growing friction between royalists and revolutionaries. The first book ends in the author’s heartbreaking fantasy about running off to a friendly Indian tribe, mixing his and their cultures to the enjoyment of all, existing out of the conflict zone, out of time, it almost seems. The second book ends with an extremely bleak and sarcastic play about the new Americans abusing (to state it lightly) citizens with any Tory sympathies.
A book of broken hopes, naiveté dashed, and violence—between individuals, entire nations, and everything in-between.
3 stars—more glad I read it than not; would recommend to the right person but not generally.