The Milkweed Ladies, the memoirs of poet Louise McNeill, is written out of deep affection for and intimate knowledge of the lives of rural people and the rhythms of the natural world. It is a personal account of the farm in southern West Virginia where her family has lived for nine generations.Born in 1911, McNeill tells the story of her own growing years on the farm through the circadian rhythms of rural life. She presents the farm itself, "its level fields, its fence row, and hilly pastures . . . some two hundred acres of trees and bluegrass, running water, and the winding, dusty paths that cattle and humans have kept open through the years." She writes movingly of the harsh routines of the lives of her family, from spring ploughing to winter sugaring, and of the hold the farm itself has on them and the earth itself on all of us.By the 1930s, the farm and the surrounding community had been drastically changed by the destruction left by the lumber companies, by the increased access to the outside world resulting from railway and automobile, and by war. McNeill herself left the farm in 1937 to complete her college education and to persue her literary career.Throughout The Milkweed Ladies, McNeill juxtaposes the life of the farm with the larger world events that impinge on it. But the larger world moves closer and closer to the world of the farm as McNeill herself moves away from it. The book concludes with McNeill's perspective on the events of August 5, 1945. As she sits in the Commodore Hotel in New York City, reading the headlines about Hiroshima, she understands that she can never see the farm in the same way again.The Milkweed Ladies is filled with memorable characters - an herb-gathering Granny, McNeill's sailor father, her patient, flower-loving mother, and Aunt Malindy in her "black sateen dress" who "never did a lick of work." With her poet's gift for detail and language, McNeill creates a world, forgotten by many of us, to some of us never known.
This is the memoir of a poet, and that poetry-feel comes across in the writing. If you don't especially like poetry (as I do not), you won't love this book either.
She writes about a period in the mountains of West Virginia before logging companies and road building, describing things that sound downright awful to me but describing them in a sort of removed non-judgmental way that doesn't quite glorify them but also isn't quite neutral either. I got the feeling that she longed for the past she described, but she never really said that directly.
There were a ton of words and phrases in the book that I'd never heard before and could only figure out through context clues. Even having now finished the book, those are some of the bits that are sticking with me and getting me to google around and find out more.
I read this book for my Appalachian class in college. It was a great book with a rich story, but it definitely is not my type of read. I enjoyed it and enjoyed the story, but it’s not something I would recommend to someone unless they’re interested in learning about the Appalachian culture and life.
Deeply intimate, unsentimental story of the author’s youth cradled in the West Virginia farm where generations of her family lived and worked. It reads as a gentle hymn to connection to land and family, with humor and sorrow interwoven.
wonderfully written, objective account of a life lived in the hills of West Virginia at the turn of the 20th Century. McNeill holds delicately the immense deepness and intimacy of growing up in West Virginia. I loved every line and each beautiful image that was encompassed in this book.
McNeill’s book was so comforting to read and the nostalgic memories that she conjures up are so relatable. Her sense of family and living off the land depicts a wonderful picture of the essence of living in Appalachia.
I picked this up because it is the book of a poet, and because it is centered in West Virginia at the turn of the century (the last one, that is, not the current one), and West Virginia is where the non black sheep of my paternal lineage still seem to hang out (the black sheep skedadled pretty quickly back around the same time McNeill sets her memoirs, off to California).
It is beautifully and fiercely written, and so true to country life. It's not prettified, but there are heart stopping moments. There are also rat turds in the spring water and a leaking roof and land eventually ravaged by the onrush of "civilization". It was a hard scrabble life, and McNeill looks back without sentiment, except when remembering the moments of peace and beauty--very few--that her mother had.
And it ends bleakly, with her view of the Atomic Age and what that might mean.
Very unique little book, with elegant botanical drawings in the margins.