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7 of 7 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Life knocks a man down, August 8, 2006
An incomparable story of growth and survival in the most difficult conditions. The Yearling, set in the scrubland of northern Florida a couple of decades after the Civil War, is the story of the Baxter family: little "Penny" Baxter, the father, a saintly figure who is wise, understanding, kind, brave, dutiful, stoic; Ory, the mother, whose essential goodness has been buried to some degree by endless toil and the death of several babies; and Jody, who is about 12 when the story begins, a good-natured sprite for whom nature is benevolent and everything is to be explored.
The Baxters live some 15 miles from the nearest town and four miles from their nearest neighbors, the Forresters, a family of massive sons who are variously good hearted and murderous drunks. In this environment, the little Baxter family scratches out its existence.
Two themes predominate: the loss of childhood innocence and Implacable Nature. The latter is depicted in a variety of ways: a legendary maurauding bear that is seemingly impossible to kill; a pack of hungry wolves several dozen strong; a flood that destroys everything in its path and leaves the plague in its wake; a terrible poisonous snake that threatens the life of one of the characters. In this unforgiving environment, Penny forges ahead at all times, hunting and farming to provide for his little brood, rarely at a loss despite the continual setbacks that afflict "Baxter's Island," the small territory that the family owns.
It's not all harshness, however. Moments of beauty break through at intervals, particularly when father and son are off on a leisurely hunt. There is often a great reverence shown for flowers, trees, waterways, birds, animals, and the landscape as a whole. A lovely character named Fodder-wing (of the Forrester clan) has a whole backwoods menagerie, one that young Jody would duplicate were it not for opposition from his mother, who knows all too well the trouble that animals can cause once they have grown to maturity.
The consolation prize for Jody is Flag, a fawn that he claims after its mother has been killed. Jody loves Flag as much as any 12-year-old boy in the world today loves his dog--much more, really, since it is the only thing in the world that is exclusively his.
Over the course of a year, Jody lives through all the terrors that nature--and, sometimes, man--can inflict and prepares, unknowingly, to eventually take over Penny's role as provider for the family. In the opening chapter, Jody has a particularly fine time off on his own, in the woods, and when it is over he cannot sleep because "a mark was on him from the day's delight, so that all his life, when April was a thin green and the flavor of rain was on his tongue, an old wound would throb and a nostalgia would fill him for something he could not quite remember." It is the last full day of his childhood innocence.
By the end, when events have taken their difficult course, it is Penny who must counsel Jody and explain how he wanted to spare Jody as long as he could from the rigors of adulthood. He explains, "A man's heart aches, seein' his young uns face the world. Knowin' they got to git their guts tore out, the way his was tore. I wanted to spare you, long as I could. I wanted you to frolic with your yearlin'." But, as he points out, life knocks you down, and when you get up, it knocks you down again. "What's he to do then? What's he to do when he gits knocked down? Why, take it for his share and go on." And Jody understands and takes up his new responsbility, to himself and to his family.
I haven't conveyed in this short review the brilliance of the descriptions of the landscape and all it contains, the richness of the many characters who populate the book, or the excitement of the twists and turns that befall the characters--but it's all there. I will close by saying that although The Yearling is catgorized as a sort of children's book, it is one that adult lovers of literature would enjoy; moreover, it would be difficult to read for those under the age of 15, I would think.
Also, for those considering reading this book to their children, as I just did, keep in mind that it's not for the squeamish. As Penny says, and as the book reveals, "You've seed how things goes in the world o' men. You've knowed men to be low-down and mean. You've seed ol' Death at his tricks. You've messed around with ol' Starvation. Ever' man wants life to be a fine thing, and a easy. 'Tis fine, boy, powerful fine, but 'tain't easy."
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7 of 7 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
A Cracker Classic, October 21, 2004
I'm a 7th generation Floridian though not a Cracker. Cracker's in the Olden Times lived on the edge pretty much like the Baxter's did in this 1870s tale. Life in the Florida "scrub" was always difficult and always a challenge. Sugar-sand, pines,and palmettos. Crackers existed by hunting, foraging, fishing, theft, and farming enough corn to take care of their most basic needs. Killing a deer who eats your corn was the reality, killing a bear who slaughters your calf was the reality. Killing a neighbor who poached your hog was the reality. Because these kinds of insults to your welfare could not be tolerated, and Crackers had no luxuries or slack to draw upon when emergencies came along. Root hog! or die! This is what the book is about: Making the transformation from a child-like innocence of life, to a mature acceptance of the harsh realities of living. Many adults never make the change. Rawlings elevates and enobles the Baxters somewhat; in reality they would have been coarse and crude and unsympathetic characters, hardened by a life of hard-times. But the book is about becoming an adult and setting aside childish things and ways. Excellent writing and absorbing story.
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3 of 3 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
A simple yet penetrating glimpse into the world of boyhood innocence., October 15, 2007
In past reviews, people have speculated that if The Yearling were to have been published in today's times, would it still have been awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Literature. For me, I would have to say that that would be a resounding yes. I say so because the novel captures, with vivid simplicity, a bygone American era via the stark usage of the literaty resources available to Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings at the time, quite simply, the values, environment and language which surrounded her. Being the excellent and astute writer that she was, she transposed those raw yet natural elements to her characters, specificially the gruff yet loving Baxter clan.
In a time where people are adrift due to the constant onslaught of materialism, celebrity, technology, vanity, money, you name it, the Baxter clan are a refreshing anomaly, for all of the above was not really available to them, and if it was, it was to a very limited degree. But because of that humbling deprivation, they as a family and individualistically speaking, were interiorily richer in so many different capacities. Their lessons came from the law of the land, the primal yet earthy philosophy of kill or be killed. But it was also a deep almost religious respect of the land and its animals that could definitely shape the thinking and the ever evolving twists and turns that are in abundance in The Yearling. Ezra Baxter-Jody's father-to some extent, could be considered as the Atticus Finch of the Florida backwoods, for he respects the codes that govern the wilderness and for the wild animals who occupy it. And thus, he kills only when necessary; he imbues that code of ethics in Jody who is of a tremendously malleable age, especially by the Forrester family and their sometimes less-than-stellar behavior.
The novel is about being a boy, about growing up and about sacrifice, and when Jody, a lone child, adopts a fawn whom he names Flag, the emptiness of being a lone child abates; the fawn, a cherished pet, is a co-experiencer with Jody of the highs and lows of living in the scrub country, and he is there for Jody's various milestones, his inching along toward the tower of manhood. But sometimes just doing the day-to-day obligations of life is simply not enough. Sometimes one has to go beyond what is expected, and the latter half of the book illustrates that sacrifice entails pain, large or small, for real love sometimes does hurt. The Yearling is pungent, pure, simple, true and very very giving, absolutely worthy of the 1939 Pulitzer Prize.
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