Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings (1896–1953)

$6.50. Time-Life Edition. Near Fine. Originally published in 1942, Cross Creek has become a classic in modern American literature. For the millions of readers raised on The Yearling, here is the story of Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings's experiences in the remote Florida hamlet of Cross Creek, where she lived for thirteen years. From the daily labors of managing a seventy-two-acre orange grove to bouts with runaway pigs and a succession of unruly farmhands, Rawlings describes her life at the Creek with...Mor… (mer)

Cross Creek is one of the finest memoirs ever written, filled with grace and beauty from one of America's greatest writers, Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings. Perhaps no other writer has so perfectly and honestly captured a place and time like Rawlings did in Cross Creek. It will transport you to that small acreage of backwoods Florida and cause you to wish for a life such as this.

Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings purchased a seventy-two acre orange grove in this remote area and fled her aristocratic life in the city to perfect her craft and get published. It is here that all her beloved books would be written, including this memoir covering the years of hardships and beauty at Cross Creek. Rawlings was in many ways reborn in Cross Creek, and she would leave behind literary achievements such as "South Moon Under," "Golden Apples," "When the Whippoorwill," "Cross Creek Cookery," and of course, her Pulitzer winning, "The Yearling."

Her close relationships with her neighbors at the creek, both black and white, are told with humor and humanity. Their lives were often filled with hardships but serenity as well, for all of them had chosen to live this kind of life rather than conform to society. Especially poignant are Rawlings's observations of a young destitute couple who would later be portrayed so movingly in Jacob's Ladder.

Rawlings's recollections of her friendships with Moe and his daughter Mary, who was Moe's reason for living, and the only one in his family who cared whether he came or went, are told with such beauty we feel pain ourselves when he takes his last breath at the creek. Rawlings's deep friendships over the years with Tom and Old Martha are told with humor, honesty and a gift for description few have ever captured on paper.

Tinged with sadness is Marjorie's relationship both as employer and friend to 'Geechee. Rawlings would attempt to help her, but to no avail, as this sweet personality slowly became an unemployable alcoholic. Her mistreatment at the hands of a womanizer unworthy of her love was at the heart of her problem. It is perhaps also at the bottom of some bitter comments from Rawlings.

But Cross Creek is about the earth and our relationship to it. Rawlings came to believe over time that when we lose our connection to the earth, we lose a part of ourselves. The great and wondrous beauty of nature, from magnolia blossoms and rare herbs to Hayden mangos and papaya, are as much a part of this memoir as the people. Particularly hilarious are this gifted writer's descriptions of a pet racoon of such mischievous nature and cantankerous disposition that it almost seems human.

Rawlings's world at the creek is perhaps her legacy, a gift given to the reader we can never forget. In order to enjoy this memoir, however, one must take into consideration a number of factors. Published in 1942 and covering many years prior in a backwoods area of Florida, this was a time when racial equality was a distant dream. Some may be offended by Rawlings's casual - though never mean spirited - observations.

Rawlings honestly relates actual conversations from this time and place between blacks and whites, and blacks to other blacks. While Rawlings herself treated everyone fairly, a long string of farmhands prone to drink and violence - including the man who would destroy her friend and employee 'Geechee - prompted Rawlings to lump an entire race into one group, her friends at the creek being rare exceptions. I do not feel this caveat should keep anyone from reading this most beautiful and heartwarming of memoirs, as this is an unflinchingly honest look at a time and a place, as well as attitudes - warts and all.

Rawlings's graceful prose, whether describing a chorus of frogs singing at night as a Brahms waltz, the scent of hibiscus drifting through the air at dusk or myriad of dishes meticulously prepared and labored over for hours, is delightful and unforgettable. Cross Creek will make you hungry for succulent fruits, cornbread and hot biscuits with wild plum jelly, and the living of life itself.

Reading this lovingly written memoir will leave you with a wistful desire to walk away from society as Rawlings did, and live the life we crave in our very being, even if that life can only be lived in our hearts.

"Cross Creek belongs to the wind and the rain, to the sun and the seasons, to the cosmic secrecy of seed, and beyond all, to time."
Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings
(1896-1953)… (mer)

Mi sono ritrovata questo libro in casa perché mia mamma l'ha salvato da morte certa: la precedente proprietaria voleva bruciarlo insieme ad altri suoi compagni di sventura perché non sapeva cosa farsene. Esatto: i killer di libri esistono e sono in mezzo a noi. Non avete idea di quanto sia fiera di essere figlia di una donna che salva i libri.

Per quanto riguarda questa edizione, si tratta di un libro per la scuola, quindi con quelle fastidiose quanto inutili pagine piene di domande ed esercizi sul testo. Almeno, io le ho sempre trovate una seccatura capace di uccidere qualunque neonato interesse nel povero ragazzo che si ritrova alle prese con ingiunzioni del tipo descrivi l'aspetto dei personaggi.

Purtroppo, però, chi ha curato questa edizione ha anche ritenuto che il libro integrale fosse una prova troppo ardua per le giovani menti: quindi, ha pensato bene di fare una riduzione con salti narrativi da cardiopalma. Penso di essermi letta circa il cinquanta percento del romanzo originale.

In ogni caso, Il cucciolo mi ha dimostrato (qualora mi fosse rimasto qualche dubbio) che sono passata dalla parte degli adulti. Non sono riuscita a identificarmi in Jody, il ragazzo protagonista, nemmeno una volta, mentre le mie simpatie sono andate al padre.

Avrei dovuto provare più pietà per lui per via della sua situazione, ma per la maggior parte del tempo Jody mi è sembrato un coglioncello fanca**ista. Sì, sono diventata una cinica orca mangiatrice di bambini. O forse è solo un effetto collaterale passeggero del convivere con un fratello adolescente. È incredibile quanto risultino seccanti gli adolescenti quando si è oramai fuori da quella fase della vita.

Per il resto, mi è sembrato un tipico romanzo di inizio secolo scorso per giovani menti: moraleggiante, pieno di buoni sentimenti e assolutamente prevedibile. Alla fine viene da chiedersi perché i protagonisti siano i Baxter e non i Forrester. Deve essere perché qualcuno, a un certo punto della storia, ha pensato che i Buoni Perfettini fossero meglio dei Buoni Che A Volte Sono Cattivi.… (mer)