“Jeanine you’re just always messing with me.”
“I know it.”
The weather in Texas is stormy, but not with rain. This is the world of Texas oil fields, of dust-bowl drought, of abject poverty and the wildcat oil rigs and sleek race horses that promise to buy a reprieve from it. It is the world of the Great Depression and Jeanine Stoddard is a spunky young lady, unafraid of hard work and at home in the man’s world through which her charming ne'er-do-well father drags her.
Perhaps one of the themes of this book is how important it is to be an individual and lay your own course, but also how easily you can slip into the world you dream of and, doing so, lose your way in the world that is real. Nothing impressed this upon me like the following passage, in which it is impossible not to see Jack Stoddard as someone, like all the rest of us, who simply lost his way and cannot handle the responsibility he has taken on.
He had grown up on the land that is now Camp Wolters in Central Texas, near Mineral Wells. He had grown up there when it was open country covered with the wind-worn pelt of native grasses. Once he had come upon the skull of a Comanche with a bullet hole in the cheekbone and after some exploration he had found the thighbones and ribs and tangles of buckskin fringe. During high school in Mineral Wells he had memorized Travis’ last letter from the Alamo and declaimed it at graduation. He used to ride the Mineral Wells street railway to Elmhurst Park where there was a racetrack and a casino and the wind made women’s long dresses fly up so you could see black stocking garters with the red marks they made and it moved him in inexplicable ways so that he laughed and elbowed Chigger Bates. He had seen Yellow Jacket run the 880. He shifted his feet and smoked and said we all wanted our parents to be better parents.
One of my favorite characters is Ross Everett. For me he exudes personality. He is strong and tough, but also sensitive and caring, with a quick wit and a dry sense of humor. I had an absolute idea of him in my mind, down to the tilt of his head when he dusts dirt off his stetson. The love affair here is a teasing game, and I read it knowing that I was being teased right along with the lovers.
Much of what makes this book special for me is the nostalgia it evokes for the world just before World War II, that was cruel, but in so many ways, so sweet. The strong family ties, the descriptions of the towns, the relationships that develop, and the haphazard nature of happiness, are drawn with such detail and credibility. There is the impossible nature of the Depression:
Nothing could ever be fixed, no matter how hard Jeanine tried. It all just broke again but there was no other way but to lay hands on the pieces and fit them together, make them work.
And the poignant observation of how precarious existence is:
Everything had a family to feed, it was just a matter of who ate who and devil take the hindmost.
And yet there is so much love on every page, Jack’s love for Jeanine and hers for him, the love of the girls for one another and their mother, the love that plays in and out between two of the main characters, and the simple love of the neighbors who plow the fields and lend a hand. I was caught up in it immediately and hated to reach the end and know the story was done.
Paulette Jiles is an astute and skilled storyteller. I have spent time with her in five books and I am anxious and ready to do it again. She has a penchant for penning characters that are as real as your neighbors or sisters, and choosing just the right elements from the history books and the fads of the time to make it something you live. Cultural references are everywhere, but placed within the details of the story so that there is nothing jarring or overdone in them. The times are hard, but what we know, that the characters do not, is that World War II is on the horizon and these hard times will constitute a sweet memory soon, a memory of youth and possibility before a storm of loss.