(no subject)
Unbelievably out of it today -- so out of it that although I made coffee and poured it into a mug, I forgot to drink it; no, really -- but I did want to point Little House fans to the news that Mary Ingalls did not go blind from scarlet fever after all.
From a writing point of view, I'm fascinated by the suggestion that Laura Ingalls Wilder, Rose Wilder Lane, and the New York book editors all agreed that "vague viral or bacterial brain infection that we don't exactly have a name for" would be too confusing, and that it was better for Mary to have the literary illness of scarlet fever instead.
Particularly interesting since in literature (not reality, before people leap up to correct me) both scarlet fever and tuberculosis tended to turn children into inspirational household angels, beloved by all, probably best exemplified by Beth of Little Women. Some of this, of course, doubtless reflected the reality of mourning for lost children and a tendency to idealize their memories; some of this may have been attempts to alleviate the anger and resentment that healthier children may have felt about the need to care for their sicker siblings.
In the case of the Little House books, Mary Ingalls is initially described as a well behaved little girl with three traits that drove her little sister nuts: Mary is bossy, superior and prissy. After Mary's illness and blindness, however, she becomes the angelic center of the household: always helpful, always good, never losing her temper, the sort of person that you would want to sacrifice everything for, which the poverty-strapped Ingalls family did, having their daughter Laura work for pay starting at 13 (in the books; 11 in real life) in part to raise the money to send the talented Mary off to college and perhaps train her for a career despite her blindness.
It's a heartwarming portrait, but I've always wondered how much nostalgia and anger shaped that portrait. This study raises those questions all over again.
Ok. Hopefully I'm alert enough to go get milk and other necessities.
From a writing point of view, I'm fascinated by the suggestion that Laura Ingalls Wilder, Rose Wilder Lane, and the New York book editors all agreed that "vague viral or bacterial brain infection that we don't exactly have a name for" would be too confusing, and that it was better for Mary to have the literary illness of scarlet fever instead.
Particularly interesting since in literature (not reality, before people leap up to correct me) both scarlet fever and tuberculosis tended to turn children into inspirational household angels, beloved by all, probably best exemplified by Beth of Little Women. Some of this, of course, doubtless reflected the reality of mourning for lost children and a tendency to idealize their memories; some of this may have been attempts to alleviate the anger and resentment that healthier children may have felt about the need to care for their sicker siblings.
In the case of the Little House books, Mary Ingalls is initially described as a well behaved little girl with three traits that drove her little sister nuts: Mary is bossy, superior and prissy. After Mary's illness and blindness, however, she becomes the angelic center of the household: always helpful, always good, never losing her temper, the sort of person that you would want to sacrifice everything for, which the poverty-strapped Ingalls family did, having their daughter Laura work for pay starting at 13 (in the books; 11 in real life) in part to raise the money to send the talented Mary off to college and perhaps train her for a career despite her blindness.
It's a heartwarming portrait, but I've always wondered how much nostalgia and anger shaped that portrait. This study raises those questions all over again.
Ok. Hopefully I'm alert enough to go get milk and other necessities.