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Little House #1-2, 4
Laura's Early Years Collection
Three treasured novels in paperback--"Little House in the Big Woods, Little House on the Prairie", and "On the Banks of Plum Creek"--shrink-wrapped together in a beautifully designed package.
First published January 1, 1965
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About the author
Laura Ingalls Wilder
454 books5,433 followersLaura Ingalls Wilder was an American author, journalist, and educator whose "Little House" series transformed the arduous reality of the American frontier into a foundational pillar of children's literature. Born in the "Big Woods" of Wisconsin to Charles and Caroline Ingalls, Laura’s childhood was a nomadic journey through the heart of a shifting nation. Her family moved across Kansas, Missouri, Minnesota, Iowa, and the Dakota Territory—often staying just ahead of legal evictions or chasing the promise of fertile soil. These years were marked by extreme hardship, including the "Hard Winter" of 1880–81 in De Smet, South Dakota, where the family survived near-starvation. Despite the struggle, these experiences provided the raw material for her eight-volume record of pioneer life, a series that has since been translated into over forty languages.
Before becoming a world-renowned novelist in her sixties, Wilder lived several distinct lives. At fifteen, she became a teacher in one-room prairie schools, a job she took primarily to support her family financially. In 1885, she married Almanzo Wilder, beginning a partnership that endured fire, paralysis from diphtheria, and the heartbreaking loss of an infant son. These trials eventually led them to Mansfield, Missouri, where they established Rocky Ridge Farm. It was here that Laura developed her voice as a professional writer, serving as a columnist and editor for the Missouri Ruralist for over a decade.
The Great Depression and the 1929 stock market crash wiped out the Wilders’ savings, providing the ultimate catalyst for Laura to pen her memoirs. Her daughter, Rose Wilder Lane—a successful author in her own right—encouraged her mother to adapt her autobiography, Pioneer Girl, into a format more suitable for children. This resulted in a complex and often rocky literary collaboration; while Lane provided the professional "style," Wilder provided the "substance" and narrative heart. The first book, Little House in the Big Woods, was published in 1932 when Laura was sixty-five.
Wilder’s legacy is a blend of immense literary success and modern historical scrutiny. While her books remain staples in classrooms for their vivid descriptions of 19th-century domestic life, her portrayals of Native Americans and African Americans have led to recent reevaluations. In 2018, the American Library Association renamed the "Laura Ingalls Wilder Medal" to the "Children's Literature Legacy Award" to reflect these evolving cultural sensitivities. Nonetheless, Wilder remains a monumental figure in American letters, a woman who successfully "saved the American soul" by documenting the grit, faith, and unyielding persistence of the pioneer spirit.
Before becoming a world-renowned novelist in her sixties, Wilder lived several distinct lives. At fifteen, she became a teacher in one-room prairie schools, a job she took primarily to support her family financially. In 1885, she married Almanzo Wilder, beginning a partnership that endured fire, paralysis from diphtheria, and the heartbreaking loss of an infant son. These trials eventually led them to Mansfield, Missouri, where they established Rocky Ridge Farm. It was here that Laura developed her voice as a professional writer, serving as a columnist and editor for the Missouri Ruralist for over a decade.
The Great Depression and the 1929 stock market crash wiped out the Wilders’ savings, providing the ultimate catalyst for Laura to pen her memoirs. Her daughter, Rose Wilder Lane—a successful author in her own right—encouraged her mother to adapt her autobiography, Pioneer Girl, into a format more suitable for children. This resulted in a complex and often rocky literary collaboration; while Lane provided the professional "style," Wilder provided the "substance" and narrative heart. The first book, Little House in the Big Woods, was published in 1932 when Laura was sixty-five.
Wilder’s legacy is a blend of immense literary success and modern historical scrutiny. While her books remain staples in classrooms for their vivid descriptions of 19th-century domestic life, her portrayals of Native Americans and African Americans have led to recent reevaluations. In 2018, the American Library Association renamed the "Laura Ingalls Wilder Medal" to the "Children's Literature Legacy Award" to reflect these evolving cultural sensitivities. Nonetheless, Wilder remains a monumental figure in American letters, a woman who successfully "saved the American soul" by documenting the grit, faith, and unyielding persistence of the pioneer spirit.
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January 25, 2021
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January 30, 2026
★★★★★ — 4.75/5
I was in 1st Grade when I first opened 'Little House in the Big Woods'. It was my very first reading assignment in school, the beginning of my formal journey with books. On the cover was a little girl, clutching her doll with a quiet, affectionate gaze—an image that immediately resonated with me. It reminded me of my little sisters and their own precious dolls, their simple joys mirroring those of Laura Ingalls in a world so different from my own yet, in many ways, not so far removed.
As I turned those first pages, I discovered something remarkable: this story unfolded on the very soil beneath my feet. My elementary school stood in Missouri, a land that had once been part of the great frontier, where settlers like the Ingalls family carved out their lives with determination and hardship. These books, though fictionalized, were rooted in history, in the lived experiences of pioneers whose dreams were vast, but never guaranteed. They captured a world where survival meant effort beyond comprehension for a young boy raised with the luxuries of electricity and running water.
It wasn’t long before I devoured the entire series. Long before my classmates had even reached winter break, I had traveled with Laura from the Big Woods of Wisconsin to the open prairies of Kansas, across the plains of Dakota Territory, and into the heart of a growing America. I walked in her shoes, witnessing the raw beauty of a young nation expanding, its people striving, sometimes struggling, but always pushing forward.
One of the most profound moments in my journey with these books came when I learned I was a distant cousin of Laura Ingalls Wilder. A small connection, perhaps, but a meaningful one. It made the stories feel even more personal, as though in some way, the echoes of that pioneering spirit ran through my own veins. Yet, despite that familial tie, what truly changed me was the realization of my own fortune. My family had its struggles—my father didn't always pay the bills on time, and at times we faced uncertainty—but I still had the comforts of a modern home. I didn’t have to wake before dawn to milk a cow or churn butter just so we could eat. My childhood chores, even in a farm environment, were minor compared to the daily labors Laura endured.
I remember reading passages that left me in awe of what life had once been:
"Pa and Ma and Mary and Laura had to work hard, and so did Jack the brindle bulldog, and Black Susan the cat. But they were all happy there in their little house in the Big Woods." (Little House in the Big Woods)
Hard work was a necessity, not a choice, and yet, there was a profound contentment in it. Even as the world changed around them, the Ingalls family found joy in the simple things: the warmth of a fire, the sound of Pa’s fiddle, the pleasure of a good meal made from the work of their own hands.
Visiting pioneer museums and attending "A Day in the Life of a Prairie Person" events at historical sites further deepened my appreciation. Stepping into a one-room schoolhouse, with its wooden benches and slate boards, I was humbled by the contrast to my own education. Laura's relentless pursuit of learning despite the hardships she faced stood as a testament to the changing times:
"The only stupid thing about arithmetic was that it made Laura's head ache. But the longer she studied it, the easier it was." (Little Town on the Prairie)
Education was precious, a privilege not to be taken lightly. She studied by lamplight, walked miles to school, and became a teacher herself before she even turned eighteen. It was a stark reminder of how drastically the 20th—and now 21st—century had altered life. The luxuries I took for granted were built upon the sacrifices of those who came before me.
As an adult, I returned to these books, reading them aloud to my young daughter. It was a full-circle moment—one that reminded me why these stories matter. They are not just charming tales of frontier life; they are windows into our past, into the resilience and ingenuity that shaped this nation. And now, as she prepares to enter third grade next year, I plan for her to read them on her own. Not because they are required, but because they are vital. Because, just as they once did for me, they may plant the seed of gratitude, of perseverance, of appreciation for the past that only reading can provide.
Laura Ingalls Wilder’s books are more than literature; they are a blessing—a bridge connecting us to those who walked before us, reminding us that life, no matter the era, is a story of struggle, growth, and hope.
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★★★★★ — 4.9/5
Farmer Boy arrived in my hands already warmed by love. By the time I reached it, the Little House books were no longer just stories. They were places I had lived in, seasons I had endured, voices I trusted. Growing up in Missouri gave those pages extra weight. This was not an abstract frontier. I stood on land Laura once knew, visited her home while still a child myself, and let my imagination stretch the familiar fields of my own world outward until they became vast. That expansion, that sense that my home could be bigger than I thought, was one of reading’s first great gifts to me.
As a child, I loved all of these books. Still do. But the first two settled deeper than the rest. Little House in the Big Woods was my first assigned reading, the moment when school and pleasure briefly shook hands. It took years for education itself to become a positive force in my life, but reading never failed me. Book one showed me that words could make a world breathe. Farmer Boy showed me that a boy like me could exist inside those pages too. Almanzo Wilder, or Alonso as he is called through most of Farmer Boy, lives a harder life than Laura in many ways. His days are measured in labor: long hours in the fields, bitter cold, discipline that leaves little room for softness. Wilder never pretends otherwise. She writes plainly about work, about expectations, about the way childhood on a working farm is shaped by necessity rather than indulgence. Alonso rises before dawn, shoulders responsibility early, and learns that effort is not optional. It simply is.
Yet what struck me, even then, was not just the hardship, but the kindness braided through it. The Wilder farm is demanding, but it is also abundant. Meals are earned, but they are shared generously. Alonso works hard, and in return he is fed well, trusted, praised, and loved. Wilder lingers lovingly over the food, the warmth of the kitchen, the satisfaction of a full table. She writes of a household where labor is met with care, where a boy’s effort is seen and valued, where love is not withheld because life is difficult. There is a quiet line of reassurance running through the book, the sense that “there was plenty” when it mattered. As a child raised by a single father struggling with addiction, that exchange stayed with me. I did not grow up on a farm, but I worked one. That work, and the kindness of the people who owned it, gave me a kind of currency for survival. It taught me endurance. It taught me how to carry weight without breaking. Reading *Farmer Boy*, I felt something rare at the time: recognition. Alonso’s life was harder than mine in obvious ways, but he received something I longed for deeply. Love in proportion to effort. Stability as a reward for perseverance. A place at the table that did not have to be earned anew each day.
The book may be lighter in tone than some of the later entries in the series, but it was the first time I felt seen inside a story. I had connected to fiction and nonfiction before, to Twain and Jack London, later to books like Hatchet, but this was different. This was not adventure at a distance. This was a boy working, enduring, hoping quietly for approval, and finding it. That is why my later love for The Long Winter makes sense alongside Farmer Boy, and why including both in any reflection on this series feels intentional. I lived through winters that were genuinely frightening, seasons where cold and scarcity pressed in and survival felt uncertain. Laura’s account of relentless storms, of isolation and hunger, of fear held at bay by sheer will, resonated in a way I could not have predicted as a child. Yet even there, in the bleakest moments, the lesson mirrored Alonso’s story. Hard lives can still hold dignity. Struggle does not erase worth. Farmer Boy gave me a vision of what a hard life could look like when met with fairness and care. It showed me a boy whose labor mattered, whose family noticed, whose effort returned to him as warmth and belonging. I longed for that exchange, and in some ways, I spent years trying to earn it elsewhere.
Returning to these books now, especially as a parent, I see them not as simple pioneer tales but as emotional maps. They chart different ways of surviving childhood under pressure. Laura survives through grit and curiosity. Alonso survives through work and love. Both stories mattered to me, but Alonso’s was the first that spoke directly to the boy I was. That is why Farmer Boy remains one of my favorites. Not because it is easier, but because it is kinder. Because it showed me that even in a harder life, a child can be held, fed, and valued. And for a long time, that hope mattered more than anything else a book could offer.
I was in 1st Grade when I first opened 'Little House in the Big Woods'. It was my very first reading assignment in school, the beginning of my formal journey with books. On the cover was a little girl, clutching her doll with a quiet, affectionate gaze—an image that immediately resonated with me. It reminded me of my little sisters and their own precious dolls, their simple joys mirroring those of Laura Ingalls in a world so different from my own yet, in many ways, not so far removed.
As I turned those first pages, I discovered something remarkable: this story unfolded on the very soil beneath my feet. My elementary school stood in Missouri, a land that had once been part of the great frontier, where settlers like the Ingalls family carved out their lives with determination and hardship. These books, though fictionalized, were rooted in history, in the lived experiences of pioneers whose dreams were vast, but never guaranteed. They captured a world where survival meant effort beyond comprehension for a young boy raised with the luxuries of electricity and running water.
It wasn’t long before I devoured the entire series. Long before my classmates had even reached winter break, I had traveled with Laura from the Big Woods of Wisconsin to the open prairies of Kansas, across the plains of Dakota Territory, and into the heart of a growing America. I walked in her shoes, witnessing the raw beauty of a young nation expanding, its people striving, sometimes struggling, but always pushing forward.
One of the most profound moments in my journey with these books came when I learned I was a distant cousin of Laura Ingalls Wilder. A small connection, perhaps, but a meaningful one. It made the stories feel even more personal, as though in some way, the echoes of that pioneering spirit ran through my own veins. Yet, despite that familial tie, what truly changed me was the realization of my own fortune. My family had its struggles—my father didn't always pay the bills on time, and at times we faced uncertainty—but I still had the comforts of a modern home. I didn’t have to wake before dawn to milk a cow or churn butter just so we could eat. My childhood chores, even in a farm environment, were minor compared to the daily labors Laura endured.
I remember reading passages that left me in awe of what life had once been:
"Pa and Ma and Mary and Laura had to work hard, and so did Jack the brindle bulldog, and Black Susan the cat. But they were all happy there in their little house in the Big Woods." (Little House in the Big Woods)
Hard work was a necessity, not a choice, and yet, there was a profound contentment in it. Even as the world changed around them, the Ingalls family found joy in the simple things: the warmth of a fire, the sound of Pa’s fiddle, the pleasure of a good meal made from the work of their own hands.
Visiting pioneer museums and attending "A Day in the Life of a Prairie Person" events at historical sites further deepened my appreciation. Stepping into a one-room schoolhouse, with its wooden benches and slate boards, I was humbled by the contrast to my own education. Laura's relentless pursuit of learning despite the hardships she faced stood as a testament to the changing times:
"The only stupid thing about arithmetic was that it made Laura's head ache. But the longer she studied it, the easier it was." (Little Town on the Prairie)
Education was precious, a privilege not to be taken lightly. She studied by lamplight, walked miles to school, and became a teacher herself before she even turned eighteen. It was a stark reminder of how drastically the 20th—and now 21st—century had altered life. The luxuries I took for granted were built upon the sacrifices of those who came before me.
As an adult, I returned to these books, reading them aloud to my young daughter. It was a full-circle moment—one that reminded me why these stories matter. They are not just charming tales of frontier life; they are windows into our past, into the resilience and ingenuity that shaped this nation. And now, as she prepares to enter third grade next year, I plan for her to read them on her own. Not because they are required, but because they are vital. Because, just as they once did for me, they may plant the seed of gratitude, of perseverance, of appreciation for the past that only reading can provide.
Laura Ingalls Wilder’s books are more than literature; they are a blessing—a bridge connecting us to those who walked before us, reminding us that life, no matter the era, is a story of struggle, growth, and hope.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
★★★★★ — 4.9/5
Farmer Boy arrived in my hands already warmed by love. By the time I reached it, the Little House books were no longer just stories. They were places I had lived in, seasons I had endured, voices I trusted. Growing up in Missouri gave those pages extra weight. This was not an abstract frontier. I stood on land Laura once knew, visited her home while still a child myself, and let my imagination stretch the familiar fields of my own world outward until they became vast. That expansion, that sense that my home could be bigger than I thought, was one of reading’s first great gifts to me.
As a child, I loved all of these books. Still do. But the first two settled deeper than the rest. Little House in the Big Woods was my first assigned reading, the moment when school and pleasure briefly shook hands. It took years for education itself to become a positive force in my life, but reading never failed me. Book one showed me that words could make a world breathe. Farmer Boy showed me that a boy like me could exist inside those pages too. Almanzo Wilder, or Alonso as he is called through most of Farmer Boy, lives a harder life than Laura in many ways. His days are measured in labor: long hours in the fields, bitter cold, discipline that leaves little room for softness. Wilder never pretends otherwise. She writes plainly about work, about expectations, about the way childhood on a working farm is shaped by necessity rather than indulgence. Alonso rises before dawn, shoulders responsibility early, and learns that effort is not optional. It simply is.
Yet what struck me, even then, was not just the hardship, but the kindness braided through it. The Wilder farm is demanding, but it is also abundant. Meals are earned, but they are shared generously. Alonso works hard, and in return he is fed well, trusted, praised, and loved. Wilder lingers lovingly over the food, the warmth of the kitchen, the satisfaction of a full table. She writes of a household where labor is met with care, where a boy’s effort is seen and valued, where love is not withheld because life is difficult. There is a quiet line of reassurance running through the book, the sense that “there was plenty” when it mattered. As a child raised by a single father struggling with addiction, that exchange stayed with me. I did not grow up on a farm, but I worked one. That work, and the kindness of the people who owned it, gave me a kind of currency for survival. It taught me endurance. It taught me how to carry weight without breaking. Reading *Farmer Boy*, I felt something rare at the time: recognition. Alonso’s life was harder than mine in obvious ways, but he received something I longed for deeply. Love in proportion to effort. Stability as a reward for perseverance. A place at the table that did not have to be earned anew each day.
The book may be lighter in tone than some of the later entries in the series, but it was the first time I felt seen inside a story. I had connected to fiction and nonfiction before, to Twain and Jack London, later to books like Hatchet, but this was different. This was not adventure at a distance. This was a boy working, enduring, hoping quietly for approval, and finding it. That is why my later love for The Long Winter makes sense alongside Farmer Boy, and why including both in any reflection on this series feels intentional. I lived through winters that were genuinely frightening, seasons where cold and scarcity pressed in and survival felt uncertain. Laura’s account of relentless storms, of isolation and hunger, of fear held at bay by sheer will, resonated in a way I could not have predicted as a child. Yet even there, in the bleakest moments, the lesson mirrored Alonso’s story. Hard lives can still hold dignity. Struggle does not erase worth. Farmer Boy gave me a vision of what a hard life could look like when met with fairness and care. It showed me a boy whose labor mattered, whose family noticed, whose effort returned to him as warmth and belonging. I longed for that exchange, and in some ways, I spent years trying to earn it elsewhere.
Returning to these books now, especially as a parent, I see them not as simple pioneer tales but as emotional maps. They chart different ways of surviving childhood under pressure. Laura survives through grit and curiosity. Alonso survives through work and love. Both stories mattered to me, but Alonso’s was the first that spoke directly to the boy I was. That is why Farmer Boy remains one of my favorites. Not because it is easier, but because it is kinder. Because it showed me that even in a harder life, a child can be held, fed, and valued. And for a long time, that hope mattered more than anything else a book could offer.
June 21, 2018
This was probably the most read book during my childhood, for I was forever dipping in and out of this tome to re-immerse myself in the adventures of the characters who formed much of my daydreams and play.
April 18, 2008
I'm re-reading several of the Little House books to prepare for a Laura Ingalls Wilder party that Shelley H. and I are doing at work next week.
These books NEVER get old. I mean, they're old, sure, but they never lose their immersive magic.
Even knowing that Laura wasn't actually old enough to experience the Big Woods first-hand and that the Little House on the Prairie was kind of a bust and that the Banks of Plum Creek probably weren't as enchanting as she made them out to be...well, it doesn't matter. Wilder crafted some perfect stories, and I'm so excited to celebrate them with kids!
These books NEVER get old. I mean, they're old, sure, but they never lose their immersive magic.
Even knowing that Laura wasn't actually old enough to experience the Big Woods first-hand and that the Little House on the Prairie was kind of a bust and that the Banks of Plum Creek probably weren't as enchanting as she made them out to be...well, it doesn't matter. Wilder crafted some perfect stories, and I'm so excited to celebrate them with kids!
March 19, 2008
Pa is a grizzly & wonderful guy and Ma is sweet. One of my favorite parts of the book tells of a time when the girls were bored, so for fun Pa blew up a pig's bladder and gave it to the girls. The played with it for days! My other favorite part is when Laura receives for Christmas one shiny penny, a piece of a tasty honeycomb, & her own tin cup-and she was thrilled to have her own tin cup. This book is great but I didn't read the whole series because as a young boy I became bored as Laura grew older. I still think this is the best book of all of them though.
March 4, 2008
I read these books to my kids last year and they loved them. They are full of simple stories of a simpler time and simply delightful. (On the Banks of Plum Creek was our favorite - there are a couple of funny stories in there that we love.) It is intriguing for kids to read of how people used to work, bake, hunt, etc., etc. I was surprised how much I had forgotten since I had read them as a child.
April 22, 2008
When I was in first grade I discovered the Little House series and my love of reading was born. My friend Holly and I used to be obsessed with these books and we would read and act them out together. Santa Clause brought me the entire series for Christmas when I was 7 or 8 and I read these books more times than I can count. I still have all of the books (minus one that I ruined while I was trying to read it while taking a bath) and I am excited to pass them on to my daughter.
November 8, 2008
I spent the summer after kindergarten with my grandparents, and my grandmother used to read these to me at naptime (she'd usually fall asleep and so I would go to see what grandpa was up to). But, as long as she was reading I would stay put and listen as my imagination was filled with the fantastic images of being a girl in those days.
Read
July 12, 2007I ENJOYED LEARNING ABOUT HER LIFE AND ENJOYING ALL OF THE TECHNOLOGY WE HAVE NOW COMPARED TO THEN. IT MADE ME APPRECIATE THINGS NOW
Currently reading
April 28, 2008I love this book and read when i was child still love it tina
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 11, 2008
I used to LOVE these! I read them all the time whenever I stayed home from school sick.
April 28, 2008
This is the best series of books!!!!I recomend it to everyone!
July 19, 2025
I read and reviewed the three books collected here separately, and so this is just for my own records. Of the three, Plum Creek was my favourite - the really appealing depiction of the prairie itself bumped the book up to four stars, whereas Big Woods and Little House on the Prairie only got three. (And why is it I can never type the word "prairie" without getting it wrong? I know how to spell it, but my fingers don't agree.)
Anyway. I find, when reading this series, that the books are more appealing as I go along. I think it's because Laura's growing up in them, and so her understanding of the world and the events around her is a little more mature. Given I never read these books as a child, and am only reading them some decades later, the slowly more realistic depiction of pioneer life is just more interesting to me.
Anyway. I find, when reading this series, that the books are more appealing as I go along. I think it's because Laura's growing up in them, and so her understanding of the world and the events around her is a little more mature. Given I never read these books as a child, and am only reading them some decades later, the slowly more realistic depiction of pioneer life is just more interesting to me.
June 14, 2018
I enjoyed this children book. The story made you feel for the Ingalls family as they survive out on the prairie. There were a few scenes in the story that matched the movie I saw many years ago. This is a good story for third graders on up as well as for adults.
I think everyone needs to read it.
I think everyone needs to read it.
April 5, 2021
Finished reading Little House in the Big Woods with the kids on April 4, 2021.
Still need to read Little House on the Prairie and On the Banks of Plum Creek with them.
Still need to read Little House on the Prairie and On the Banks of Plum Creek with them.
May 18, 2023
Still love this!! The christmas scenes…💖 and the cover?!
January 26, 2009
A childhood pleasure revisited!
My fondest memories of elementary school were of Ms. Call, the librarian, and her bookish domain. My favorite times at grade school were those hours sitting at Ms. Call's feet while she read aloud to the class, then the ten minutes or so after "storytime" when we were allowed to pick out books for our personal reading. For some reason, I was a huge series fan - would pick one author and then read all of his/her books: Walter Farley's Black Stallion series, Judy Blume, the Anastasia series (no, not about the Russian princess), the Boxcar children (important note: I despised both Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys), and my two favorite authors: Marguerite Henry - she wrote Misty of Chincoteague, King of the Wind, Brighty of the Grand Canyon, etc. - and Laura Ingalls Wilder, whose books I read and reread like they were going out of style.
Thus, when I stumbled into the library and saw these books, I couldn't help myself. It's been years since I last visited with Laura and her family, first in The Big Woods, and later at the Shores of Silver Lake, but reading her words was like being with an old friend. Adding to the delight was the self-sufficiency, both subliminal and direct, that Wilder preaches - more meaningful now as I've been studying such subjects. Wilder talks about the once a year process of processing pork, the seasonal diet her family sustains itself upon, their reliance on the foods of the forest and plains, as well as all that they grow themselves (nope, ain't no grocery stores in The Big Woods). The idea that children be well behaved at all times (seen and not heard at the dinner table, minding their manners and not being selfish with their ONE personal toy) is almost a bizarre concept now. When Laura gets her beloved Charlotte (a rag doll) for Christmas, her one and only present, she is completely beside herself with awe and glee. And it was a freakin' rag doll - it didn't come with batteries, blinking lights, a game console... I mean, do children today read these books and think, What the hell? Possibly. I found it refreshing, though.
The concept of Americans and what we are as a people, what we stand for, etc. has been recently bandied about (it always happens in election years), but when I read Wilder's works, I can't help but feel proud of the self-reliance, the pioneering spirit, the resourcefulness and delight at simple pleasures that her family embraces. It's something I hope more Americans will consider.
**FASCINATING TIDBIT: a seed-savers exchange - Baker Seed Company - is located next door to the Laura Ingalls Wilder Homestead and Museum in Missouri... check out their website (www.rareseeds.com).
My fondest memories of elementary school were of Ms. Call, the librarian, and her bookish domain. My favorite times at grade school were those hours sitting at Ms. Call's feet while she read aloud to the class, then the ten minutes or so after "storytime" when we were allowed to pick out books for our personal reading. For some reason, I was a huge series fan - would pick one author and then read all of his/her books: Walter Farley's Black Stallion series, Judy Blume, the Anastasia series (no, not about the Russian princess), the Boxcar children (important note: I despised both Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys), and my two favorite authors: Marguerite Henry - she wrote Misty of Chincoteague, King of the Wind, Brighty of the Grand Canyon, etc. - and Laura Ingalls Wilder, whose books I read and reread like they were going out of style.
Thus, when I stumbled into the library and saw these books, I couldn't help myself. It's been years since I last visited with Laura and her family, first in The Big Woods, and later at the Shores of Silver Lake, but reading her words was like being with an old friend. Adding to the delight was the self-sufficiency, both subliminal and direct, that Wilder preaches - more meaningful now as I've been studying such subjects. Wilder talks about the once a year process of processing pork, the seasonal diet her family sustains itself upon, their reliance on the foods of the forest and plains, as well as all that they grow themselves (nope, ain't no grocery stores in The Big Woods). The idea that children be well behaved at all times (seen and not heard at the dinner table, minding their manners and not being selfish with their ONE personal toy) is almost a bizarre concept now. When Laura gets her beloved Charlotte (a rag doll) for Christmas, her one and only present, she is completely beside herself with awe and glee. And it was a freakin' rag doll - it didn't come with batteries, blinking lights, a game console... I mean, do children today read these books and think, What the hell? Possibly. I found it refreshing, though.
The concept of Americans and what we are as a people, what we stand for, etc. has been recently bandied about (it always happens in election years), but when I read Wilder's works, I can't help but feel proud of the self-reliance, the pioneering spirit, the resourcefulness and delight at simple pleasures that her family embraces. It's something I hope more Americans will consider.
**FASCINATING TIDBIT: a seed-savers exchange - Baker Seed Company - is located next door to the Laura Ingalls Wilder Homestead and Museum in Missouri... check out their website (www.rareseeds.com).
May 4, 2010
So apparently Little House in the Big Woods is a deep book. Or at least Megan thought so. When we finished it, she immediately started asking me why all kids have a mom and a dad and how it is that kids a long time ago had a mom and a dad, and who fed them (she determined that Jesus must have fed them).
We finally figured out that she was referring to Adam and Even and how they were able to grow up without a mom and dad.
It was an interesting conversation, all sprung from Laura Ingalls Wilder reflecting on what was past and what was present. Weird.
Anyway, at certain points I wanted to quit reading, and at other points I thought it was mildly interesting. It's not a book I would have found worth my time as a kid, but Megan really enjoyed it and even read it on her own at times, leaving me out of the loop and having to catch up to get to where she was. And boy does that girl read fast. I had no idea she could read so fast and retain so much.
Anyway, it was an ok book. If I could give it another half star to make it 2.5, I would. It did spark other interesting conversations about what life was like back then for kids and families. I think Megan appreciates some things more now.
I'm not sure who to recommend the book to. I guess if you like quaint histories, this book's for you.
We finally figured out that she was referring to Adam and Even and how they were able to grow up without a mom and dad.
It was an interesting conversation, all sprung from Laura Ingalls Wilder reflecting on what was past and what was present. Weird.
Anyway, at certain points I wanted to quit reading, and at other points I thought it was mildly interesting. It's not a book I would have found worth my time as a kid, but Megan really enjoyed it and even read it on her own at times, leaving me out of the loop and having to catch up to get to where she was. And boy does that girl read fast. I had no idea she could read so fast and retain so much.
Anyway, it was an ok book. If I could give it another half star to make it 2.5, I would. It did spark other interesting conversations about what life was like back then for kids and families. I think Megan appreciates some things more now.
I'm not sure who to recommend the book to. I guess if you like quaint histories, this book's for you.
November 28, 2016
I read these stories as a kid, but I'm so glad I read it a second time as an adult. It really opened my eyes! First of all, life back then was soooo different than it is now.
Kids got excited over peppermint sticks as Christmas gifts from Santa Claus. Tin cups, red mittens, things of this nature were gifts kids received at Christmas, and they were very happy to receive them. Living was all about survival, about building your own home, shooting animals for food, growing your own vegetables. Clothes were made by moms, food was all prepared and cooked every day at home, animals were there as pets, used as food, and to plow the land.
Exercise was done outdoors, playing was done in the creeks, doing chores at home had to be done by everyone, resting on Sundays, and not complaining was part of that life. It makes you think twice about how much "convenience" has shaped our society now and it also makes you realize how lazy we really are to some degree too (for some people).
It wasn't about pursuing the almighty dollar back then. It was about survival. Reading this book made me thankful I do not have to worry about bears, shooting animals, and bearing blizzards in a wood home with no heating. I think all adults and children alike ought to read this book, even though the picture of Laura Ingalls eating a pig tail was a bit too much for my taste.
Kids got excited over peppermint sticks as Christmas gifts from Santa Claus. Tin cups, red mittens, things of this nature were gifts kids received at Christmas, and they were very happy to receive them. Living was all about survival, about building your own home, shooting animals for food, growing your own vegetables. Clothes were made by moms, food was all prepared and cooked every day at home, animals were there as pets, used as food, and to plow the land.
Exercise was done outdoors, playing was done in the creeks, doing chores at home had to be done by everyone, resting on Sundays, and not complaining was part of that life. It makes you think twice about how much "convenience" has shaped our society now and it also makes you realize how lazy we really are to some degree too (for some people).
It wasn't about pursuing the almighty dollar back then. It was about survival. Reading this book made me thankful I do not have to worry about bears, shooting animals, and bearing blizzards in a wood home with no heating. I think all adults and children alike ought to read this book, even though the picture of Laura Ingalls eating a pig tail was a bit too much for my taste.
November 3, 2008
We finally finished reading these after many prolonged months. Not to say we did not enjoy them, we did. It just took us a long time reading them aloud here and there. I am pleased as punch that Annelise has been exposed to the goodness of Little House on the Prairie and that she enjoyed listening to the adventures of Laura and her family. We decided to take a break from the prairie for a while, but hope to read more. As Annelise gets older she can relate to an older Laura as well.
September 19, 2008
I adore these books, I just keep coming back to them again and again.... particularly 'Little House in the Big Woods'. They capture an era so beautifully, a time that is lost forever, when pioneers struggled to survive, but maple syrup flowed sweet, meats were smoked with hickory chips and wolves bayed outside your door. These stories are absolute magic, and firmly planted in many of my childhood dreams.
August 24, 2008
While Anne of Green Gables beat out Little House on tv, the Laura Ingalls Wilder books beat out Anne in print. The early years were my favorite out of all the collections. On the Shores of Silver Creek, which come in the next box set has this chapter about Jack that made me really think about Buster. With Buster dying, all I could think of was Jack and how it was time.
May 28, 2009
I read this to my kids at night. I loved it the first time I read it last year, and enjoyed reading it to my kids. But I did censor some of it for the kids, ie. some of the hunting/butchering stuff, and the comments of how Laura thought her brown hair was ugly. Didn't want my 4 year old to get that kind of talk stuck in her head. But the kids enjoyed the book and want to read the next one.
December 31, 2009
I really used to enjoy reading Laura Ignalls Wilder's books when i was younger..
Don't get me wrong, i still like them, it's just that, i think i read all of her books in the series already...
They really seemed to calm me down and i loved the different plots that the family had to deal with.
It gave me the feeling of living in a world back then.. =)
Don't get me wrong, i still like them, it's just that, i think i read all of her books in the series already...
They really seemed to calm me down and i loved the different plots that the family had to deal with.
It gave me the feeling of living in a world back then.. =)
May 26, 2017
I read this aloud to Logan. I had always loved all the Little House books. I read them often as a child. Re-reading now, with my five year old (Laura is also five in this book), was a very fun experience.
Always a wonderful read!
Always a wonderful read!
November 7, 2008
I loved the Laura Ingalls story and her childhood memories, with out the stress of growing up on the prairie. Her day to day life is so different and interesting, the things that she looks forward to, the things that entertain and excite her, it is so entiging.
February 27, 2009
I first read these books when I was seven. I loved them. I enjoyed reading them to my children. The only thing I didn't care for was Laura's negative attitude about church. Not wanting my children to adopt the negative views of church I grew up with, I just skipped those portions of the book.
May 10, 2009
this is a good book so far and I still like reading her books their are many other laura ingalls wilder books and they are really really easy to read this one is good so far only because I havn't finished it yet.
September 15, 2009
I've actually only read the first two so far, but I love them so far. I love how much detail she puts into describing everything. It makes me thing that perhaps I should re-work how I keep a journal.
November 21, 2009
Such a wonderful reminder of my childhood! These books are classics that every little child should read. They make me smile thinking about some of the wonderful stories and places that Laura lived in.
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