“The wind came again and she felt the pleasure of her own body-warmth. Like a seed, she felt, one of those sun-warmed seeds in the spring ground, growing, ready to give forth new life.”
Do you feel like doing back flips across the yard and hugging your best women friends when you read books with strong heroines? I know I do. If you answered yes as well, then The Tall Woman really ought to be on your to-read list. The problem is, you’ve probably never even heard of this book! The Goodreads listing currently indicates 739 ratings and 115 reviews. The 42 libraries in my system don’t carry it, and I’ve never seen it on the shelves of a bookstore. How did I come across it then? From my enlightened women friends here, of course! That’s not to say this book is for women only. No. This book is for any discerning reader that admires spirited women and excellent storytelling.
“It may not seem so to you now, being a girl only and a girl in love, but there’s something beyond even love, for a woman as well as a man. A body’s personhood.”
When we meet Lydia McQueen, she is a young woman about to be wed. Her mother passes along some sage advice. Marriage is not something to go into lightly, and the young don’t often think of it in the terms Sarah Moore speaks of to her daughter. I thought about that a lot – “a body’s personhood.” It’s easy to get lost within the confines of being a mother, a father, a husband, a wife. In any case, the Civil War has arrived and the people of the little town of Thickety Creek, North Carolina, in the heart of the Appalachian Mountains, will find their loyalties divided between North and South. As we so often hear, the women and children are left to fend for themselves while the men are away and at each other’s throats. When the men return, the war never really leaves them entirely. Treachery, physical harm, and loss come right back with them and set up shop in their homes, in their town. People are never the same as they once were and it is thanks to the resilient spirits of some that life goes on. Lydia’s life is far from easy, raising six children and tirelessly working the land. She’s an intelligent woman that if born in a different century would have had better opportunities, an education, and would have thrived in such an environment. But she made the most of what was given to her and expanded her mind to the best of her ability.
“Her body was not as soft and quivering and fresh as in the days of her youth, but it leaned no less eagerly toward the daily experience and touch of life. Her mind was not as trusting and unbruised as when she was a girl, but, given a chance, it turned even more vigorously to laying hold of knowledge, not only the knowledge of the brain but of the understanding heart, as well. She had attained a measure of wisdom.”
I loved everything about this novel. Wilma Dykeman writes about her characters with love and compassion. She knew these people. I read her memoir a couple of years ago and recognized many of the persons from her own life in the lives of those inhabiting this book. Ms. Dykeman’s father in particular must have been the model for Lydia McQueen’s father who had a true love for learning and reading. “She thought of Papa’s rows of books and how she had always meant to read them all, and others, too, someday…” Lydia did not have the time to read, having to take on such heavy responsibilities at a young age, but she always wanted an education, for herself and her children. I suspect Lydia’s relationship with her father was much like the one the young Wilma Dykeman had with hers. Both Lydia and her father have a dream to bring a school to Thickety Creek, and it’s not an easy aspiration by any means. Church and religion abound, but education takes a back seat. There are plenty of obstacles to realizing this desire and it becomes one of the central plots to the novel. Along the way we see everyday hard living, birth, death, grief and the whole circle of life. Lydia’s favorite spring provides a refuge for her and also illustrates the continuity of all things. I smiled through this book, and I shed some tears. Not just for these people but for how damned hard life can be for so many at different times. I think we could all use a healing spring outside our door.
“It’s all a gift, the good or bad, the living or dying, but don’t say it’s a sign: how could we ever bear the sorrow or the joy of it if we had to be a-wondering what we had done to deserve either?”