Caroline Little House, Revisited
Sarah Miller
Published 2017
Historical Fiction
⭐⭐⭐
Caroline, by Sarah Miller, is Little House on the Prairie, as if told by Laura Ingalls Wilder's mother, Caroline Ingalls. It seemed like a great idea to rewrite the story from Caroline's position, but I felt like I was reading about what I would have thought, or another 21st century woman, on the road with the typically preoccupied husband. Also, Miller shared a little too much info, otherwise known as TMI.
For example, the author did not shy away from every day realities, like the latrine, something Laura Ingalls Wilder excluded from her stories. Miller described the feminine products Caroline had to make for herself and the messy details as to why, after Caroline delivered baby Carrie.
In this perspective, Caroline was deeply introspective -- much more than I imagined the self-denying, exceptionally decent, and morally upstanding Caroline of the Little House series. But in this version, we hear only Caroline's voice, and it is rather contemporary. Often times she had the attitude of a helpless young girl -- inadequate, lamentable, and forlorn.
This Caroline pitied herself because she could not build something as long lasting as Charles did, like a house. She felt sorry for herself; she felt lonely.
That was what she had been missing while Charles was away. Not her husband's company, but the chance to share her own. The girls had their games and giggles, the men their brash hijinks (speaking of their bachelor neighbor, Mr. Edwards). Caroline had only herself.
She complained that she did not have choices, but Charles did.
It was only that he had these chances to unhitch himself from everything, and she did not. There was never the extravagance of an afternoon all to herself...
Envy, pure and simple, and nothing she said to herself would snuff the resentful flicker in her throat.
When Charles rushed back to the house after fifty wolves were at his heels, and after he caught his breath, he said to Caroline,
I was glad you had the gun, Caroline, and glad the house is built. I knew you could keep the wolves out of the house, with the gun. But Pet and the foal were outside.
Caroline bridled so suddenly the fear fell right out of her. Why had he gone off at all if he had reason to worry about the stock? Did it never occur to Charles that it might behoove them all to worry about himself now and again? Perhaps he would remember that the next time he took it into his head to trot off toward the horizon.
Smartly, Caroline suggested they would eat dinner in the house, but Charles contradicted her and said it was not necessary because Jack (their dog) would give them enough warning. And to herself Caroline remarked,
If they ate inside there would be no need of warning, but she did not bother saying so. That sort of logic held no sway with Charles.
Charles maintained a cavalier attitude about the Indians taking the cornmeal, which Caroline had to stretch and feed to her family; he did not consider the long trip to Independence to replace the things the Indians took a burden (at least for himself). Naturally, Caroline was indignant.
And this too: Caroline stewed over Charles's chastisement of Mary and Laura because they considered releasing their dog while the Indians were in the house (though they kept the dog chained, after all). Caroline thought: "What did he expect moving his family into Indian Territory? They were smarter than he gave them credit."
In a place like this, there could be no room for blind obedience. It was all the more dangerous to render them more wary of upsetting their pa than of the Indians. Their fear would guard them -- if only Charles would leave them free to obey it.
Caroline considered in her mind how Charles could and would do nothing about the Indians in the house, although his silence on the matter was frustrating. He held no malice toward any man or beast, until they proved otherwise; therefore, he justified leaving Caroline and the girls home alone.
Immediately after that conflict, she felt selfish and spiteful toward Charles, and she wallowed in how he was not included in the tight bond between baby Carrie and herself. She childishly hoped she hurt Charles's feelings and even shrugged him off when he tried to coax her.
These are a few examples of the unexpected voice and behavior of Caroline toward her husband. Only once I remember from the Little House series how Caroline raised her voice at Charles, and she immediately apologized. The apology was not warranted, but she maintained such honor and esteem for her husband that she does not strike me as the kind of woman who would have harbored self-centered, bitter, or spiteful thoughts toward him. If she did, she would have extinguished those feelings or opinions immediately. She was mature, self-controlled, well-grounded, wise, and extremely focused on her own work.
Now, I must give warning or a heads up about the intimacy between husband and wife, and the graphic breast milk descriptions, especially involving Charles. [Awkward.] There was more information than I needed to know about Charles that I cannot talk about. You will have to take my word for it. The real Caroline Ingalls would blush to know someone wrote about her husband (and herself) this way.
Regretfully, Caroline was not written in the fashion that Little House fans are accustomed. What has been lost is the art of being discreet, not just in this story, but also in society. Having grown up in a time when men and women practiced being tactful, mindful, and prudent, Caroline taught these sensible standards to her girls. When writing the Little House series, Laura was deliberate to leave out private and personal matters, such as you-know-what. There is no purpose or reason to include these events or ideas.
THE LOST ART OF BEING DISCREET
Speaking of nursing…let me apply a modern example of being discreet. Today it is all the rage to breastfeed in public. Because we are so self-absorbed, women think covering up while breastfeeding in public means we are being shamed; and being more protective of our pride than our bodies, we want to remove our cover and declare our right to feed our babies in public, ruthlessly, in need be. We think we are being noble and wise, but in essence, we have lost the art of being discreet.
In our society, women do not bare their breasts in public for a reason - though that is fast changing; why think it is any different just because we are nursing? That cover is to guard what is ours. It is more than a prevention of offense or being mindful of someone else's feelings; it is to defend what is ours; it is a powerful protection of our business, property, and privacy. But we have sadly lost that.
Instead, we want to do the opposite and carelessly and provocatively display ourselves openly, like Miller does in Caroline, which I think the real Caroline (or at least the one Laura portrayed) would be greatly ashamed. Maybe that is harsh to charge Miller with being provocative, but that is how I tie it into my culture today; people think it is more powerful to be shocking than it is to be discreet; but Caroline, through Laura, showed us otherwise.
IS THIS BOOK FOR YOU?
Little House fans will be tempted to read this, but you must be forewarned: it is not the Caroline Ingalls you know or are familiar. She is more like...me and you...a contemporary woman, more sensitive to and vocal about the discrepancies and grievances and discomforts of being a woman, a wife, and a mother. Yes, I am guilty of these things, too.
Heads up: there are a lot of breast and breastfeeding and breast milk scenes. And the intimacy between Charles and Caroline was not subtle and quite uncomfortable. I only read as much as I did because I was in shock that I was reading it at all. Eventually, I skipped ahead. I think I blushed more reading Caroline than I did Madam Bovary.
It is kind of a bummer because I wanted to enjoy it, but I am a disappointed. I have an ideal of Caroline Ingalls, and I want to keep it that way. Even if it is not the true Caroline, I like the one I already know more.
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