Showing posts with label Laura Ingalls Wilder. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Laura Ingalls Wilder. Show all posts

Thursday, October 3, 2024

I Read Prairie Fires, and I'm Pretty Mad about Rose Wilder Lane

paying my respects (with awful white balance) in 2012

Prairie Fires: The American Dreams of Laura Ingalls WilderPrairie Fires: The American Dreams of Laura Ingalls Wilder by Caroline Fraser
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

So you know how I’ve mentioned before that if Pa Ingalls has no haters in this world, then it’s time to plan my funeral?

Well, if Rose Wilder Lane has no haters left in this world, then it’s because I’ve discovered time travel and gone back in time just to experience the joy of smacking her across the back of the head. Christ, what an asshole!

This book made 21 hours of the approximately 35-hour road trip I took to visit my kids at college fly by, and meant that I could also profitably use every bathroom break to text the family group chat bitching about Pa and Rose… at least until I hit up the Roger Williams National Memorial on my way from Falmouth to Philadelphia, after which I started obsessively texting everyone all about how we’d all still be living under the thumb of extremist Puritan theocracy if it hadn’t been for Roger Williams, but that’s a whole different review.

There are certain historical figures/famous people whose life stories I can’t get enough of, and honestly, the more gossipy the information is, the better. I will read about Vincent Van Gogh, Louisa May Alcott, and Britney Spears FOREVER, just like I am always thirsty for more info about Laura Ingalls Wilder and her family. The lure is that they’re all complicated people with complicated familial relationships, and I get to play armchair psychologist while satisfying all my looky-loo urges. I may have finally met my perfect match in Caroline Fraser, as this massive, sweeping history of America and biography of not just Laura, but also Rose and Pa and Ma and, to a lesser extent, a dozen other people, FINALLY contains the bounty of information that I want to know when I want to know about someone. Like, Darling, don’t just tell me your life story, also tell me the life story of your three-times great-grandfather and how the Dakotas became separate states and the timeline of legislation that moved the native peoples off their lands and something or other about Albania--to be honest, I’m still a little lost about most of the Albania stuff. As I was driving through a mountain range in a downpour, avoiding the toll roads per usual, there was a giant sign that said “Reduced Visibility When Flashing,” with the lights flashing, and then all of a sudden I was in a fog bank in a downpour on a terrifying bridge between two mountainy bits and I was pretty sure I was about to die. But I didn’t! But I also didn’t absorb too much about what the deal was with Albania, either. Something something houses. Something something another creepy relationship between Rose and a young man she told to pretend to be her son.

paying my respects to Ma--but NEVER Pa!--in 2014

Because I’ve read Wilder’s works so avidly, a lot of the material about Wilder, herself, was actually less interesting to me, because Wilder, herself, was the ultimate source material. It was sort of like Fraser was retelling Pioneer Girl: The Annotated Autobiography to me, then The First Four Years, then On the Way Home, then West from Home: Letters of Laura Ingalls Wilder, San Francisco, 1915. But the biographies of Pa’s ancestors were a genuine revelation, more fun because I was driving into New England while I listened--they were PURITANS! THAT explains his insane stories about how his great-grandfather wouldn’t let anyone have any fun on the Sabbath, which by the way began at sundown the night before and you had to walk soberly and sit in several hours of church, etc. One of Charles’ ancestors was even executed as a witch during the Salem Witch Trials, maintaining to the moment she was hanged a stubbornness/independent spirit that wouldn’t have looked out of place on Pa, Laura, or even that asshole Rose.

Another person with an “independent spirit” who also used it for evil was Eliza Jane Wilder. I don’t know if it’s bias, exactly, because Fraser is definitely correct in her evaluations, but when one of these figures in Laura’s life is not the good guy, Fraser definitely lets you know it! AND she brings the receipts to prove it! Like Eliza Jane: Laura clearly didn’t like her, and made it clear that Almanzo didn’t like her either, and made it equally clear in every book in which she shows up exactly why. Eliza Jane is bossy and high-handed, stuck-up and often high-key incompetent. But in case you think that Laura was just being mean in her books, Fraser literally quotes sections of Eliza Jane’s diary in which she is SO MEAN about Almanzo, and paints herself as the hero of the day in such a cringey, over-the-top, unbelievable way that I immediately added her to my haters club. Also, she bankrupted her parents, for Christ’s sake. And I am very suspicious about that time that she took teenaged Rose to live with her, because whatever Rose got up to under Eliza Jane’s supervision, it certainly didn’t improve her personality.

So. You guys. I am sure that Laura was a shit parent, because hurt people hurt people, you know? And trauma gonna trauma. And not only had Laura been parentified since at least the age of 11, and likely earlier, and had just a wagon-load of her own childhood trauma that she definitely didn’t work through, but hoo-boy, were Laura’s first years of marriage, including all of Rose’s early childhood, just an absolute shitshow all around. Almanzo, too, was likely depressed (that little survey he filled out for Rose in later years, in which he wrote to his own child that “My life has been mostly disappointments,” is just… whoa), likely had a wet dishrag for a backbone, and was physically disabled to the point that Laura, who during their courtship could have seen him as a strong, capable partner who could finally free her from this life of labor and privation, instead found herself within two years his caretaker as well as her children’s, and forced back into that same damn life of privation and labor. More labor, even, because she now had to do many of Almanzo's chores, too.

So yes. She was probably a shit parent. And she had a stubborn kid, which, just between us, does not improve one’s patience. Fraser really doesn’t go into this part a ton, but reading between the lines of writing about the family, I’m guessing Laura was a screamer, and a shamer, and Almanzo was the parent who showed his love better but also didn’t do any of the discipline and didn’t curb any of Laura’s harmful methods. And yes, I’m describing my own childhood here, as well, which is why I picked up on it so well.

Laura and Almanzo's sweet little Missouri house

So that sucked for Rose. I know it must have been painful, and I know she must have been thrilled the first time she moved away. But, like, get away and go low- or no-contact, or don’t get away and show some fucking compassion. Rose, though, chose the third option, which is absolute batshit toxic nasty behavior both to and about her mother, while never letting go/letting her mother go or giving her so much as the slightest benefit of the doubt. Imagine someone always in your life who clearly dislikes you, someone who invites you on a once-in-a-lifetime trip and then while you’re on it writes your husband to make fun of you and tell him how fat you’re getting (and ooh, that one pissed me off the most, because seriously? Fat shaming? That’s what we’ve sunk to?). Someone who insists on giving you money you didn’t ask for and then asks YOU for even more money, repeatedly. Someone who helps you write your life story and then steals part of your story and writes her own book with it, then hides it from you, then gets pissed at you when you find out and you’re upset.

And we don’t know any of this from Laura, because Laura, in all writings that we know of, only ever expressed pride and love for her daughter. She held a birthday party in her daughter’s honor while Rose was in Albania, passing around all of the letters Rose had sent her and getting all the guests to write her letters in return--people apparently thought it was kind of dumb but super sweet. She wrote to people to brag about Rose’s books, and tell them how they could buy them. And in return, Rose wrote just the most vile, mean-hearted shit about her mother in her own letters to her friends. In every instance she painted Laura in the worst possible light. She’s pretty much the first recorded instance of Bitch Eating Crackers.

To be fair, it’s pretty obvious that Rose was mentally ill throughout much of her life, untreated and unmedicated, of course. She had to deal with chronic depression and suicidal tendencies and what were probably episodes of mania, as well, all on her own, however she could figure out to do so. Unfortunately, her symptoms/coping mechanisms included narcissism, blaming others for all perceived injustices, suspicious and very questionable relationships with teen boys, including bringing them to live with her, giving them money and expensive gifts, instructing them to pretend to be her sons/grandsons, and cutting them off in adulthood. She had weird issues with money, constantly overspending and then borrowing from her parents; with houses, constantly overspending to build and remodel them; and with individualism, partly founding the libertarian party and lying about her grandparents’ history of government aid to bolster her philosophy. The most heartbreaking thing she did, though, was leave her entire estate to her “adopted grandson,” Roger Lea MacBride, a guy with mercenary sociopathic tendencies to equal her own, who courted her with yet more overtly cringy pandering letters and little gifts and solicitations until he got exactly what he wanted, which was the rights to all of Laura’s books. Rose’s body was barely cold by the time he transferred all the copyrights to himself, completely dismissing Laura’s will, which had read that Rose could have the rights and profits until her own death, at which point it should all go to her favorite public library. Instead, MacBride, and then his daughter after him, are millionaires.

the back of Rose's headstone, in 2012

And that’s how a biography of Laura Ingalls Wilder also became a pretty extensive biography of Rose Wilder Lane, too, because that’s how it goes with enmeshed folks. It would have been interesting to have seen what Laura would have been like, and could have accomplished, if she’d been given the opportunity to be an independent young woman like Rose was--would she still have been a writer without Rose’s help, with a longer career and no material wants to weigh her down? I wish both Laura and Rose could have gone to college. I wish they both could have gotten some excellent therapy, parenting classes for Laura, mental health care for Rose, and a mentor who could explain the importance of journalistic integrity and the role of authorship.

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Monday, July 8, 2024

I Read Caroline, Or, If Pa Ingalls Has No Haters In This World Then It's Time To Write My Obituary

Throwback to that time in 2014 that I slept in their backyard and then sat on their graves!

Caroline: Little House, RevisitedCaroline: Little House, Revisited by Sarah Miller
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Laura, Rose, their extended family and friends, and all their writings is one of my Special Interests, and I will never not be down to read anything concerning any of them. I am fascinated by the bits of fact that mix with their fiction, the bits of fiction that mix with their non-fiction, the hints at juicy family drama, and how palpably trauma informed their writings, their behaviors, and their relationships.

Also, I am Pa’s biggest hater, and I will happily see him trashed anytime!

I don’t necessarily love Caroline Ingalls, either--she messed up Laura nearly as badly as Pa did--but I see, perhaps because I, too, am a woman who had a childhood and has children, how her own childhood trauma informed her own behaviors and relationships, and I can’t make myself blame and shame her like I can Pa. Seriously, fuck you, Pa.

To that end, I kind of liked that Caroline was high-key annoying in this book. I firmly believe that she literally was an annoying person! Reading Laura’s fiction and non-fiction, I VERY much get the vibe that Caroline could have been exactly as introspective and contemplative as she was in this novel. To be fair, she was constantly left alone with multiple small children in a shack out in the middle of nowhere with no amenities and a ridiculous burden of menial labor--it reads totally real that she had nothing better to do with her mind than chew over her thoughts and feelings and hold up a mental microscope to her every bodily function. RIP, Caroline--you would have loved LiveJournal!

Throughout the book, I really enjoyed the small call-outs to the overall Ingalls history that a less-avid fan would breeze past: Carrie is always portrayed as smaller and frailer than the other children, and detailing all the miseries of a covered wagon journey full of privation and hardship during Caroline’s pregnancy with her goes a long way towards explaining why. Oh, and there’s also the time everyone got malaria when she was a baby and she nearly died of neglect and starvation!

Speaking of that road trip from Hell, I get why Miller would write Caroline as perceiving herself to have the agency to postpone that trip, because otherwise it’s just too depressing for words, but… I think the reality was really just too depressing for words! I do not think for a second that Charles would have postponed that trip for any reason, because he was a selfish pig and he wanted what he wanted exactly when he wanted it. I have read nothing about Pa, in Laura’s rose-colored fiction or in her more reality-based memoir or in what little we can find about him in other historical documents, that has painted him in anything but the most selfish and unflattering light. I loved all the small moments of resentment of Charles that Miller let Caroline feel, and it’s just too bad that I have also read nothing about Caroline that has ever painted her as anything but completely in control of her deportment at all times, because I would have loved to see her, all hopped up on pregnancy hormones, rip Charles to shreds just one time. I mean, for Christ’s sake, he bought window glass instead of food! He bought a big-ass plow instead of the land to use it on! The actual timeline of the sale of the Big Woods house and the Ingalls' various wanderings is unclear, but early on it was very clear that Gustafson was going to cut and run out on the mortgage. Charles moved himself, his pregnant wife, and two small children across the country IN A WAGON and had no Plan B! Like, it’s the 1800s--what if Gustafson had simply died?!? 

I can’t even with this guy.

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