English Creek
Dancing at the Rascal Fair
Ride with Me, Mariah Montana
This Montana trilogy by Doig concerning the McCaskill family in the upper northwest of Montana, on the east side of the Rockies, is a fictional treatment of the land and the people of that very real area. Despite never having visited the state, I’ve become a Big Sky fan since reading WB Guthrie’s Montana novels, a sequence of five novels, beginning with Big Sky, set in the 1840s, each novel progressing a generation or so to depict Montana’s development (growth, destruction/exploitation, accommodation). Even Larry McMurtry, known for his valorization of all things Texas, has his characters in Lonesome Dove move their cattle to the same area of Montana, a cattleman’s paradise with its lush swaths of grass that had formerly fed millions of buffalo.
Like Guthrie, Doig is interested in exploring the way generations come to co-exist with their environment, how the land’s bounty and grandeur are offset by the extremes of heat, cold, wind, fire, drought, and snow. There is underlying everything in such depictions a veneration of dogged humanity, a celebration of the human spirit that endures hardships for moments of bliss that include beautiful vistas and a sense that all’s right with the world. This bucolic and arcadian Romanticism is hard-won, bred in the bones, a sublime reality that fosters in the weary settler only a laconic acknowledgment. Reading such novels of early settlement in harsh environments appeals to instinctive virile aspects of our humanity, even as that instinct is finally overcome by the drive to subdue, tame, and domesticate the environment. Those of us living sedate, easily compassed lives in metropolitan suburbs or urban dormitories find in such sagas as Doig’s satisfactions and insights outside our immediate ken.
Doig’s trilogy begins with a first-person account in English Creek of a single six-month period in 1939, when 14-year-old Jick McCaskill relates what is happening to his family, even as he begins to understand what’s in store for him in the future. In the second novel of the trilogy, Dancing at the Rascal Fair, poetry-spouting Angus McCaskill relates nearly his entire life in Montana, from 1880 to 1929, from his departure from Nethermuir, Scotland, to his arrival as a homesteader to the Two Mountain section of Montana, to his reconciliation with his own son, Varick. In the final novel of the trilogy, Jick McCaskill recounts events during four months in 1989, when he and his daughter Mariah (and her ex-husband) travel around the state in a Winnebago to produce feature stories highlighting Montana’s centennial. The three novels are distinctly different in form, though each is narrated with first-person intimacy, and the wonder is that the different stories—youthful coming-of-age story; full-life account of immigration, homesteading, marriage, and children; contemporary small-comedy picaresque—all begin to echo each other and finally meld into a compelling, affecting saga of three generations of McCaskills thriving and enduring.
At the heart of the first two novels in the trilogy are relations and schisms that come to define the characters. English Creek relates the sundering of the McCaskill family as Jick describes how older brother Alec has decided to marry and work as a ranch hand rather than go off to college in Missoula. Also, there’s a historical mystery in the figure of Stanley Maxiel, a competent but seemingly shiftless woodsman who drinks too much and has some sort of past with Jick’s father, the forest ranger Varick McCaskill. In the second novel, Dancing at the Rascal Fair, Angus McCaskill’s relations with his best friend Rob Barclay fray to nubbins when the latter causes a rupture between Angus and his son, Varick. At the core of the rupture between the two lifelong friends is Angus’ marriage to Rob’s younger sister Adair, even while Angus carries a torch (discretely and chastely, though not secretly) for the woman (Anna Ramsay) who rejected his marriage suit and married a horse rancher. Adair and Angus have a civil, even congenial marriage, but Angus is conflicted, guilty about the sacrifices that Adair has made to accommodate his love of the harsh country, while she’d rather be back in Scotland. Stanley Maxiel appears in this novel, and Maxiel is at this time the first forest ranger of the Two Mountain national forest, having set its very boundaries. Angus’ son, Varick, early emancipates himself from his father (angry at the mistreatment he perceives Angus has done his mother) and attaches himself to Maxiel and forestry in general.
While the first two novels in the trilogy do the heavy lifting, offering up themes and variations and amplification, it’s in the last novel that the thematic intensity is tamped down in favor of a looser, episodic narrative that verges on comedy. Jick is writing in 1989, and he’s 65 years old, so there’s occasion in many of the incidentals of the peripatetic adventures of the moment for him to reflect on matters that we’ve already glimpsed in the first two novels. These sudden emotional memory flashes recall and expand the significance of what had been presented in the earlier novels; these are not outright duplications or repetitions, so there is additional resonance in learning something more about Anna Ramsay, for instance, and her husband, the horse breeder who is himself secretly aware that his wife harbors romantic interests for his friend Angus McCaskill. So, while Jick (and later his contemporary Leona Wright, brother Alec’s first great love) rides around the state with his photographer daughter and her ex-husband, newspaper writer Riley Wright, there are comic hand-wringing moments about the two of them getting back together, but the real story is always about the past, its meanings, and the legacy that he will leave.
The novels work together well to encompass Jick McCaskill’s story, with the second novel providing the most comprehensive account of the relations the family has felt with the land itself. Ivan Doig uses the first-person narratives in these novels to good effect, adopting a personable and voluble voice, one attached to discerning and thoughtful narrators. Even as Jick relates events in 1939 from the vantage of 1985, he is able to make it feel vividly in the moment, yet still suggest there’s a reflective old man taking stock. Angus’ voice is of the moment throughout Dancing at the Rascal Fair, and even while he becomes embroiled in events and conflicts, his perspective remains outwardly focused, concerned about the world beyond himself. Ultimately, the novels present a symphonic homage to Montana and the McCaskills, an embodiment of the spirit that made a home at the edge of that state’s great wilderness.