This is the story of Alaska before statehood, in all its glory, beauty and bleakness...where men pitted themselves against the elements and the wilds, only to find the greatest threat is from "outside." Edna Ferber is one of the best-selling novelists of this century, including her Pulitzer Prize novel SO BIG.
Edna Ferber was an American novelist, short story writer and playwright. Her novels were popular in her lifetime and included the Pulitzer Prize-winning So Big (1924), Show Boat (1926; made into the celebrated 1927 musical), Cimarron (1929; made into the 1931 film which won the Academy Award for Best Picture), and Giant (1952; made into the 1956 Hollywood movie).
Ferber was born August 15, 1885, in Kalamazoo, Michigan, to a Hungarian-born Jewish storekeeper, Jacob Charles Ferber, and his Milwaukee, Wisconsin-born wife, Julia (Neumann) Ferber. At the age of 12, after living in Chicago, Illinois and Ottumwa, Iowa, Ferber and her family moved to Appleton, Wisconsin, where she graduated from high school and briefly attended Lawrence University. She took newspaper jobs at the Appleton Daily Crescent and the Milwaukee Journal before publishing her first novel. She covered the 1920 Republican National Convention and 1920 Democratic National Convention for the United Press Association.
Ferber's novels generally featured strong female protagonists, along with a rich and diverse collection of supporting characters. She usually highlighted at least one strong secondary character who faced discrimination ethnically or for other reasons; through this technique, Ferber demonstrated her belief that people are people and that the not-so-pretty people have the best character.
Ferber was a member of the Algonquin Round Table, a group of wits who met for lunch every day at the Algonquin Hotel in New York.
Jan 31, 120pm ~~ Quoting from the inside flap of the cover of this 1958 book ~~ This is an angry novel, telling of the fifty-year battle between two titans trying to dominate Alaska's future. And this is the story of their lovely young granddaughter Christine Storm, who had to choose between two younger titans ~~ a choice that stood, in a way, for Alaska's future.
Alaska is still a territory, and the two men mentioned are Czar Kennedy and Thor Storm. One loves and respects the land, wants to see it used without being abused. The other is there for as much profit as he and his cronies can get, full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes.
One's son married the other's daughter, and Christine was the result. But her parents died so the two grandfathers raised her. Six months with one, six months with the other. It is a wonder young Chris did not go crazy from the stress of living such a split life, especially in her childhood. But she learned to think for herself, sometimes to the point of being obnoxious, but always honest and curious about her world.
I usually absolutely adore everything about Ferber's work, but I could never really connect with our Miss Chris. She was too much of a symbol, I guess. I think that was my problem with the entire book. It was interesting, it was dramatic, and yes, it was angry, but it was so very clearly Nature versus Industry with the Future ready to step in and go either way or perhaps work out some blend of the two. Having all of that spelled out for you in the first few chapters is different from realizing it yourself in the course of your reading.
The first few chapters took place mainly in Christine's present day, while she and the other Symbols went to meet a delegation from Outside. But then we switch to her own life history, which is of course vital to the story, but the entire time I was wondering when we would land again in the present. And I was not ready for the jolt of the switch back when it came. By then I had almost forgotten what had been going on way back at the beginning of the book. At that point it seemed like Ferber just wanted out of Alaska, because the last couple of chapters are fast and furious and present the reader with a bit of a Lady Or Tiger type of ending for Christine, leaving the reader to decide not only her fate but Alaska's also.
And it still is not completely decided, is it. There are still those who believe that only in destroying Nature can we have the modern life we all think we need, and others who still believe in respecting the planet, living gently in partnership with the Earth, whether it is in Alaska or Mexico or any other place on the planet.
I will quote Grandpa Thor (Nature) before I go ~~
"What a lovely world. The loveliest. We've had it, a gift, for a million million years, and now we're throwing it away. A pity."
I wanted to read Edna Ferber and found this at our annual library book sale. It was first published in March 1958, several months before Congress approved the Alaska Statehood Act. Statehood had come before Congress at least once before in 1954 when it did not pass, and it is said this book influenced passage in the affirmative. Of course I was interested.
Alaska became a state in January 1959 and I first came to Alaska nearly 20 years later. I have known many people who were born in the Territory of Alaska and who remember those much earlier days and I loved to hear the stories. I have never lived in the far north and this book isn't about the part of Alaska that I know and love. But loving Alaska is what this book is about and I could certainly relate on that level.
There are two fictitious towns - Baranof and Oogruk. I suspect Ferber didn't want anyone to think she had just renamed any real places, and so I was a bit confused about the geography. I liked Ferber's prose. I might have wanted better "people" characterizations, but the characterization of the setting was excellent.
That said, I remember as a child growing up in California how tiresome Texans were in telling the rest of us that they were the greatest state. I suspect that non-Alaskans might feel similarly about Ice Palace. This is dated and no longer reflects the Alaska that is. (It predates the discovery of oil most notably.) I missed the good characterizations and for that reason only have rated this a middling 3 stars.
Decaying old paperback from your grandmother's library—the back room where old paperbacks are stacked up to block drafts from the windows. This book was a bestseller. It was a sensational pot boiler, I believe they were called. In the 1950s, when housewives were finished ALL their chores, or they were waiting for something to finish baking, they could sit down for a few minutes—but ONLY while the kids were at school (wagging finger). No Leisure time unless everything is organized in your household! So anyway, housewives read this garbage book about the developing territory of Alaska, and then some of them managed to convince their husbands to take interest. And this is how I imagine Alaska earned its statehood.
The dialogue and pacing are horrible. The last third of the book moves in a weird non-linear fashion. Truly. The dialogue is so bad, I couldn't even understand what the characters were saying to each other. It's like alternating lines were written by two different people who didn't consult one another. Also, the people were racist, going on about "Eskimos" like the Inuit people belong in a zoo exhibit.
And oh by the way, the excited blurb on the cover says this is America's best female author. Insult.
I wanted to read this because I learned while watching Jeopardy that it was influential in Alaska achieving statehood. However, I found it hard to get into and mostly a slog. Picked up some interesting tidbits about life in Alaska, and the forces at play at the time they were trying to become a state. Not much of a real gripping plot line, though.
Close to the end, though, there was one major speech by Thor Storm, that really got my attention! It was sadly surprising that although it was written in 1958, it sounds like to could have been written today. Had to copy it down and share it here --
"It will soon be finished unless a miracle happens. I believe in miracles. Perhaps it will come from the women. If women ever realize their power and true strength they will govern the world, there will be another matriarchy. We have reached a depth of degradation such as the world has never known. Millions and billions of people are working like dumb slaves to pay for weapons which will destroy them. Every nation is armed against every other nation. Every country's economic stability is based on the destructive apparatus of war. War is a business greater then the steel business greater than the foolish automobile business greater than commerce food clothes education health life itself. War is Death and we bend our necks to it and our backs to it, slaves. Men in the courts of law and decent women in the schoolrooms try to combat with words or with punishment the gangs of children all over the world, boys and girls, armed with knives and clubs and bottles and small guns and bits of metal, fighting against each other. But the example is a world -- the entire planet Earth -- one huge gangland in a race to be armed with weapons deadlier than the mind of man has ever before dreamed of in its most hideous nightmares. Men in uniform and in neat tailored suits and men in turbans and robes and even in feathers and clubs, meet and discuss this, solemnly, but not reasonably. They say they do not want this, you want it, we do not want this, you want it, each to the other, pointing, like that famous old cartoon of that brilliant cartoonist, Nast. Nast. I learned of him when I was a very young man in Norway, it was he who introduced the cartoon donkey for the Democratic party so many years ago, and the elephant for the Republican, and tiger symbol for Tammany Hall. Perhaps it could be as simple as that. Another Nast. Another Jesus, with a resurrrection of the spirit. Clear-eyed simple men of good will. Now the greatest minds in the world, the magnificent brains of the scientists and the minds of inverntors and of men of business and of teachers and politicians and writers and rulers and manual workers are conentrated on creating more and more deadly instruments of war. They insist that these are not instruments of war -- they are instruments to prevent and forestall war. As well place a box of matches and stick of dynamite in the hands of a child to keep him quiet. This is childish, this is madness, this isn't proper behavior for Man, the highest form of animal life, the one creature endowed with the thing called the spirit." He rose with effort. "I must be maundering a little, I find I do occasionally, now." He walked through the room as though no one were there. "What a lovely world. The loveliest. We've had it, a gift, for million million years, and now we're throwing it away. A pity." He went to the doorway, almost blindly. "Alaska, the arsenal. It should be free."
This is one of the better Edna Ferber books I have read. By 1958, she had been writing novels for over 40 years and it shows. Her setting this time is Alaska, in the fictional town of Baranof during the years just preceding Alaska's admission to statehood in 1959. It was #7 on the bestseller list for 1958.
The characters are good and richly created. Christine Storm, born in the midst of severe weather, is central to the story. Her parents died before she turned one year old and she was raised by opposing grandfathers. Grandpa "Czar" Kennedy has made a fortune out of the territory and wields considerable political power. Grandpa Storm, who loves Alaska for its grandeur, its varied peoples, its wild potential for freedom, runs a widely read newspaper and is a philosopher of sorts.
Many men are in love with the beautiful, intelligent and free-spirited Christine. Her story illustrates the conflicting teachings of her grandfathers. Will Alaska gain statehood and thus more control over its destiny or will it be raped and plundered by big business for its abounding natural resources? Even though we now know the answer to those questions, it is exciting to read about what it was like for Alaskans in the mid 1950s.
If you want the in depth story, I dare you to wade through James Michener's Alaska, published in 1988. For a more condensed version and an enjoyable quick read, Ice Palace will do just fine.
This is a story about a few different things. You have Christine Storm in the Alaskan Territory, a 17-year-old orphan living on-and-off with both of her grandfathers, two completely different men (one who lives in the territory based on his love of the land and those that live there, and one who lives in the territory based on his love of money and power). The grandfathers also have differing views on where Christine should live - should she continue to live in Alaska or should she go to the "Outside", to Seattle, to be a part of something new and not so secluded. And then you have story about the land itself, the Alaskan Territory, covering the weather, the animals, the people, the lifestyle.
Published a year before Alaska made its statehood, supposedly this book helped turn the votes. In that way it's a lot like Sinclair's The Jungle, a little heavy on the propaganda, but certainly worth a read. The grandfathers are charming in their own curmudgeonly right, and Christine is a force to be reckoned with, making her overall a pretty fascinating character.
Ah, Edna, you are rapidly getting to be one of my favorte authors! Check out her Pulizer Prize winning "So Big and my favorite so far "Cimarron. All great reads about interesting times and interesting characters.
I always feel strange giving a mediocre review on a classic book. This was a decent read, but a bit preachy over the state of Alaska and the state of its statehood. Heavy handed, I believe would be an appropriate description.
I most enjoyed the well - rounded characters of Grandpa Thor Storm and Bridie Ballantyne. Grandpa Czar Kennedy and the Eskimo pilot Ross Guildenstern were also interesting. And while I admire the strong, bold, independent star of Alaska, Christine Storm, I find her use as a metaphor for Alaska a tad over the top.
I have heard from people who know Alaska that Edna Ferber does not. I have been told that the view of the state given in the book reflects the author's own cursory tour. I cannot speak to this, myself, but can see the point made. I would not have been able to come to this conclusion on my own, however.
I was looking forward to the Seattle portion of the book; when Christine spends two years at UW. Sadly, this part could have taken place anywhere for all it reveals of a 1953 Seattle. A mention of Mt. Rainier is about all I can identify.
The story itself reads a little like a soap opera, a little like a travel brochure. I understand that this novel, published in 1958 and made into a Hollywood movie in 1960, was somewhat instrumental in the United States government granting Alaska statehood, so that is interesting. And I almost wish to visit Barrow, myself, based on its description.
This is my favorite Ferber book and one of my favorite books of all time. I love the characters, the descriptions, the story, and even the propaganda! I re-read this book every few years and continue to enjoy doing so. My one complaint is that Ferber didn't wrap up the love story neatly enough for me. Why couldn't Ross and Christine even have one kiss?! Silly, I know, but I love those two characters!
An interesting read—but not Ferber’s best. There is a lot of dialogue, some good and intriguing, some a little disjointed. Still, I stuck with it and glad I did. Grandpa Thor and Bridie are characters that kept me interested and intrigued. And near the end, Thor gives a passionate speech that shows Ferber’s progressive pro-female perspective that feels like it could have been written today. Reminded me a little of Ferber’s celebrated Giant with focus on Texas with strong female protagonist and plot line about Mexican Americans and racism.
To someone my age Alaska’s statehood is a firm reality and Edna Ferber has disappeared into the unknown. Once upon a time, these realities were flipped.
Edna Ferber was a prominent mid-20th century American author I might have completely overlooked if not for taking one of those random internet quizzes about American Jewish female authors. And the only reason I plucked her book on Alaska from her collection was that it was the one available at a flea market I went to with a friend.
But in its day it made some sort of splash—with a publication date that preceded Alaska’s statehood by three months. (These two events are not unrelated, despite the author’s protestations.) A few years later it was turned into a movie which, from the trailer, looks far schmaltzier than the book vibes seemed to me. (One contemporary critic went so far as to complain of the novel: “when [Ferber] is faced with a choice between romance and a description of the Alaskan canned-fish industry, the cannery wins every time.”)
It’s a decidedly non-Jewish book for this assimilated author with Jewish ancestry, but one innkeeper is based off of a Jewish woman, and Ferber made the woman’s father into a rabbi from Russia. So there’s that.
But anywho. The title refers to a glass-walled building in a fictional Alaskan town that would be a stand-in for Alaska itself. Or maybe the stand-in is our protagonist, Chris(tine) Storm, who was born inside of a gutted caribou during a snowstorm. (As Dorothy Parker repeated in her review about Chris “Miss Alaska” Storm: “You heard me, she was born in a caribou.”)
If Chris is the future of Alaska, then her grandfathers are the foundation. Both are two distinctive pillars: “Czar” Kennedy is a millionaire mogul who only sees Alaska in terms of how it might enrich him. Thor Storm, on the other hand, came to the territory as an adventurer and, perhaps as a more masculine version of Ferber, fell in love with its rugged frontiers.
He also had a son with an “Eskimo” woman, as the ethnic group was then described, making Chris part Eskimo. The 1950s casual racism is definitely on the page, but through Thor’s appreciation of Eskimo culture (as well as a side character of that ethnicity), it’s presented with more open-minded curiosity as well.
The plot of the novel, such as it is, involves Chris going off to college—her grandfathers disagree on the where (Kennedy says to the “outside,” and Thor says in Alaska.) We get to see how she’s been formed by these two men (and although Kennedy’s description is gag-inducing, he does have enough dimension at least to be forceful and entertaining.)
Also molding Chris is Bridie Ballantyne, an Irish woman who came to the territories under false pretenses of becoming a “mail order bride,” and instead became the mother figure for Chris (and also all newcomers, it seems.) We do get into a fair few subplots about the types of people who move to Alaska during this time, and why. That, on top of the thick mid-20th century prose, made this book a chore sometimes. Ferber herself apparently regretted that she didn’t have time to iron out some of the threads (including Chris’s lackluster love triangle.) Falling ill before editing, she let the book go before she was ready, as it seems the public was hungry for her work. Celebrity hasn’t changed much in the intervening decades.
I did enjoy having a young female protagonist at the heart of the story, even when it was quite obvious she was more Team Thor than Team Kennedy. (At one point, when Thor interrupted a session in the U.S. congress, Chris shouted down her pro-state support from the gallery.) I don’t think modern sensibilities would say it’s a nuanced description of either character or plot, arguably even if Ferber had revised it. But she was a dreamer for her day, and after conducting lots of research, it’s compelling to read where her passions led her.
I was considering not finishing Ice Palace until I got about halfway through. It was very slow-paced and aimless, and I kept getting side characters mixed up. It was clearly written to give a voice to proponents of Alaska statehood, and therefore felt too much like a travelogue. But eventually something changed, and I was actually looking forward to the next time I could sit down and read more. Something about Edna Ferber's writing has a way of getting under my skin(in a good way) and making me feel for the characters. It took much longer than usual here, but I did end up liking it enough to add a star to my original rating. The way Chris was almost a personification of Alaska was interesting, especially in the way her relationship to her two grandfathers parallels the men's differing views on Alaska. As "Grampa Czar" mainly sees how the region's resources can create wealth and status, he wants Christine to marry someone with wealth and power, and move about in high society. While Grampa Thor really loves the land and people of Alaska, and lets Chris be herself and respects her choices instead of trying to make her fit a "civilized" mold.
I did wish that the first had cut down on all the Alaska fun facts and not jumped around so much. When Ferber went back to focusing on the characters and their interactions it became much more engaging. Though the last half still should have wrapped things up more. Dave Husack's outbursts towards Chris after the boat sinks and at the D.C. Senate debacle are not mentioned again and Chris's relationship to him barely seems affected(oddly, this reminds me a lot of the unresolved banquet conflict in Giant). I would expect that a protagonist biting her possible future-father-in-law's hand right down to the bone and then getting slapped by him would have a more notable impact on the story.
In any case, Dave Husack is rather awful and his son Bayard is a supercilious freeloader, so at least Chris didn't definitively end up joining their family, though it never says whether she ended up with Ross either. This is a pity, since Ross is obviously the better option. I would have liked more of these loose ends taken care of, but I found the characters and prose enough to make it worth three stars for me. I'd recommend it to other fans of Edna Ferber, but if you decide to try it don't feel bad about skimming the first 45% or so. The second half sums up the same conflicts with much greater clarity and insight. And for Ferber first-timers, read a couple of her other works before trying this one, since it's not one of her best or most accessible books. Try So Big or Show Boat to get a sense of her style before trekking into her portrayal of the Arctic.
I read this because I'm going to Alaska for the first time. I'm glad I did; but I wouldn't say it's a "must read". Having already read Michener's Alaska, some of it was repetitive.
Superficial characters, weak start, slightly better middle, abrupt ending that resolves nothing of the already weak and jumpy plot. I could forgive Ferber for the oft cliched descriptions of characters and scenery since it was written in the late 1950s, but her writing is repetitive and so poor. The entire book reads like she lost interest halfway through writing, and just quickly slapped together an end. I really loved for the book to have been better, and was bitterly disappointed by the end. An East of Eden or Chesapeake it sure is not.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
I read this book after reading Michener's Alaska. It is propaganda, but still an enjoyable read -- somewhat dated now that Alaska is a state. It gives an overview of what life was like there about 50 years ago.
For a glorified travel brochure, the book offers some surprisingly compelling characters. Despite heavy-handed political and moral messages, it makes up for it with a unique structure and a fascinating glimpse of pre-statehood Alaska, a setting not often explored.
A gem of a tale by mostly forgotten author Edna Ferber, I picked this book off my grandfather's bookcase based on the title alone and got much more than I was expecting when I finally read it. Written in the 1950's, Ice Palace is the story of Christine "Chris" Storm, born in a caribou in a blizzard up in the Wood River Country, Alaska, and the two grandfathers who raised her, Czar Kennedy and Thor Storm. Meeting aboard ship on their way to Alaska, the two men have been friends, partners, and enemies for fifty years. Kennedy made millions and built the glittering glass Kennedy building, a 14 story apartment complex known as the Ice Palace, while Storm still lives in the log cabin he and Kennedy built when arriving in Baranof, working on the same book he's been writing for decades. Christine spends her childhood moving back and forth between these two opposite old men.
Ringing remarkably true to the Alaskan pioneering spirit, it talks about the Alaskan people fighting for statehood and for their voice to be heard in American government, as well as issues still relevant today- overfishing, the depletion of natural resources, losing the traditional way of life in the native villages.
It brought me back to the year I lived in a small Alaskan village- more than 50 years after this book takes place, but so much still the same. Bush villages are still isolated, connected by planes rather than roads. Highly recommended for those interested in Alaska and its history, it's also a fascinating look at the temperament and resilience needed to make Alaska a home. And the reverse is true as well, as it shows how people who grow up and live there are molded by Alaska itself.
Favorite quote, by the half Danish, half Eskimo pilot Ross Guildenstern: Fascinating ethnological fact. In the Eskimo language there's no word for good-bye.
In the last several months, I have read (or re-read) all of Edna Ferber’s major works. Ice Palace is the last of those. Like many of her works, the story spans many years, this time depicting the lives of Czar Kenney and Thor Storm, two fictional early pioneers of twentieth century Alaska. Starting out as business partners and friends, their paths diverge by the 1950s when Czar opposes Alaska statehood and Thor is for it. Their shared story, however, is that they raise, after her parents die, their granddaughter Christine Storm. The book is rife with conflict as the two old men battle it out and as they have opposing views of how to raise their granddaughter. Ultimately, it is a rewarding story, mostly a character study. Ferber, in this novel, continues experimenting with writing style, often eschewing commas and composing in a stream of consciousness manner. Furthermore, her story skips around from past to present to past to present until the reader almost doesn’t know (or perhaps remember) what time an episode is playing out in. All that being said, the book is a good one, just not as appealing to me as her earlier works. I will say I kept waiting for Alaska to become a state and for that to be the climax of the book. But had I read the publication date, I would have seen the book’s copyright is one year before Alaska achieved statehood.
Maybe because I don't give a fig about Alaska, but this book didn't do it for me. I kept waiting for it to get going, and then it was done. Our heroine, Christine, was thinly drawn, I had a hard time distinguishing her two grandfathers, Czar and Thor, and while I liked that the narrative structure was mainly a long flashback, by the time we got back to the "present day," I'd sort of forgotten who some of the people were and why they mattered (after 300 pages, Ott Decker meant nothing).
I read something online somewhere that Ferber herself felt this was published before she was ready for it to be, or something like that, and I think that colored my opinion as well, because once I read that, I had that in my mind the entire time, and used it to validate my low opinion: "Well, Ferber herself wasn't satisfied with it." I hate that my brain does that, and I wish I hadn't read that when I did.
With no parents, but two grandfathers and a surrogate grandmother to guide her, Christine becomes a product of Alaska. Her grandfather, Thor, teaches her about all the different parts of Alaska as well as the native population and teaches her to respect it all. Her grandfather, Czar Kennedy, teaches her about the money to be made in Alaska, but not by most Alaskans, by outsiders. Thor is in favor of Alaska becoming a state, Czar is not. This is Edna Ferber's attempt to help Alaska be allowed to become a state. The ending is really sucky though. Tragedy and no resolution.
I read half before I gave up. Mostly this book is setting a mood; I’d call it a tone poem if it was music. Not sure what the literature equivalent is. It’s a long book. I was enjoying the prose & thought the characters were interesting. I think 50 years ago I would have loved it. Now I’m like everybody else & require action to keep me interested & there isn’t much of that. After reading for several hours, I just got tired of waiting for a plot to kick in.
Not nearly as good as Edna Ferber’s So Big. The book was written to persuade public opinion for Alaska Statehood which is an interesting agenda for a book when social media did not exist. I wanted to read prior to my trip to Alaska. Story takes place over a few generations of those setting Alaska.
“Travel” Thor said, “When you stop being excited by travel you’ve stopped being interested in the world.”
The first sentence reads: "Every third woman you passed on Gold Street in Baranof was young, pretty, and pregnant" Gold Street = Chena River Baranof = Fairbanks This book was published in 1958. The author is the most financially successful of the Algonquin Round Table in New York. One of the most successful authors of her time, if not the best reviewed. It was a day when people read books rather than reviews of books as we do today.
A sprawling, episodic look at Alaska in the days before statehood. The novel follows three characters — Thor, who loves Alaska for its natural beauty; Czar, who wants to exploit the natural resources of Alaska; and Christine, their shared granddaughter, who walks a fine line between the two. Some astute, but heavy-handed politics and a biting, satirical wit raises this to 3 1/2 stars.
I enjoyed reading this. Too didactic of a shallow ‘environmentalism’ which excludes humans from the ‘environment’. But at times there were genuinely moving passages about the human propensity to abuse nature without respect to the land itself (or: human sinfulness exacting a toll on nature).
This was okay. Most of the characters were very well written and engaging. However, I felt the ending was a bit abrupt. Only a few of the characters ended with a specific feeling of closure.