As a young widow with a small child, Elinore Pruitt left Denver in 1909 and set out for Wyoming, where she hoped to buy a ranch. Determined to prove that a lone woman could survive the hardships of homesteading, she initially worked as a housekeeper and hired hand for a neighbor — a kind but taciturn Scottish bachelor whom she eventually married. Spring and summers were hard, she concedes, and were taken up with branding, farming, doctoring cattle, and other chores. But with the arrival of fall, Pruitt found time to take her young daughter on camping trips and serve her neighbors as midwife, doctor, teacher, Santa Claus, and friend. She provides a candid portrait of these and other experiences in twenty-six letters written to a friend back in Denver. Described by the Wall Street Journal as "warmly delightful, vigorously affirmative," this unsurpassed classic of American frontier life — enhanced with original illustrations by N. C. Wyeth — will charm today's audience as much as it fascinated readers when it was first published in 1914.
Elinore Pruitt Stewart was an American homesteader and memoirist whose vivid letters from Wyoming life in the early 20th century offer a rare and compelling portrait of the American West through a woman’s eyes. Born Elinore Pruitt in White Bead Hill, Chickasaw Nation, in 1876, she faced early hardships, losing both parents by her teenage years and taking responsibility for her younger siblings. After a brief marriage that ended with her husband’s death, she relocated to Denver, Colorado, where she found work as a laundress and later as a housekeeper. In 1909, she answered an ad from widowed homesteader Henry Clyde Stewart seeking a housekeeper in Burntfork, Wyoming. Within months of arriving, she filed her own homestead claim and married Clyde Stewart. Though married, she concealed her status for years in order to maintain her independence and her legal claim to land as a single woman under the Homestead Acts. During this time, she began a correspondence with her former employer, Mrs. Juliet Coney, in Denver, writing detailed and spirited letters about her life on the frontier. These letters were first published in the Atlantic Monthly and later collected in two volumes: Letters of a Woman Homesteader (1914) and Letters on an Elk Hunt (1915). The former inspired the 1979 film Heartland. Her writings, though often embellished for literary effect, present a strong, resourceful, and intelligent woman navigating homesteading, motherhood, and the harsh Wyoming landscape with grace and humor. Elinore and Clyde had five children together, though two died in infancy. Her daughter from her first marriage, Jerrine, survived into adulthood. Stewart used the modest income from her writings to support her family and homestead, gaining recognition as the “Woman Homesteader.” She died in 1933 following complications from surgery and is buried in Burntfork Cemetery alongside her husband. Her homestead was later recognized on the National Register of Historic Places, and her letters remain a lasting literary testament to women’s roles in settling the American West.
Hay libros que llegan justo en el momento adecuado, ¿verdad? Esto es lo que me ha pasado con Cartas de una pionera (aunque la pobre Elinore llevaba en mis estanterías desde 2016). Tras un año viviendo en el centro de una gran ciudad decido mudarme hasta sitios más verdes y tranquilos. Parece que hace más de cien años alguien pensó algo similar. En 1909 Elinore Pruitt Stewart, una joven viuda con una hija de dos años, decide romper con su precaria vida en la ciudad y emigrar como colona al oeste de los Estados Unidos. Cartas de una pionera es la correspondencia original que mantuvo Elinore con una antigua patrona y amiga de Denver.
Leerla es casi como darse un baño de bosque o Shinrin Yoku (el término japonés original). Elinore, con una escasa formación académica pero gran experiencia como lectora, narra a la perfección con tono sarcástico y alegre, su llegada a las montañas de Wyoming. Un viaje con todo lujo de detalles, a través de colores, sensaciones, nieve, tormentas, bosques de pino y delicioso café. Quizás la naturaleza sea implacable, pero Elinore también lo es. Mujer de espíritu libre, dispuesta a valerse por sí misma, digna de aparecer en Mujeres que corren con los lobos (Clarissa Pinkola Estés), cuyo lugar está, como ella misma dice al final “en el rancho”. Bastante alejada del papel que la sociedad esperaba (y espera) de una mujer.
En la faja que venía con el libro ponía «Termino de leer este libro y me siento reconciliada con la vida» (Izaskun Legarza Negrín, La librería de Mujeres). Dispuesta yo también a valorar la vida de otra forma y en un momento de cambio y transformación, me suelta Elinore esta maravilla:
«Sucede que cuando estás rodeada de tanta grandeza te das cuenta de lo insignificante que eres…».
This lady had everything needed by the pioneer women. She was smart, kind, strong, not afraid of hard work, inventive, humble, had a great sense of humor and love of life. It never fails to amaze me when reading accounts of this type at how much people could get done in a week or a month or a year. Yeah, that's the thing about hard work....It gets things accomplished. Leaves very little time for whining and complaining.
I very much enjoyed these letters describing a homesteader's life in Wyoming between 1909 and 1913.
This is one of my favorite books of all time, and I have probably read it at least a dozen times. This is the story of a person who followed her heart and worked incredibly hard; the end result is that she built a life she loved. Set in Wyoming at the start of the 20th century, Stewart (a widowed single mother)left the drudgery of taking in wash to work on a cattle ranch and prove up her own piece of land for homesteading.
She writes with wonderful droll humor and remarkable insight to the human condition. To her dear friend, she says,
"When you think of me, you must think of my as one who is truly happy. It is true I want a great many things I haven't got, but I don't want them enough to be discontented and not enjoy the many blessings that are mine....Do you wonder I am so happy? When I think of it all, I wonder how I can crowd all my joy into one short life." How many of us can say the same?
Of course I rate this book a five because my great grandmother wrote it and I can relate to it because of my grandmother's stories about growing up. However, if I was not related, I would still love this book because it is very similar in style to Jack London's prose. It has historical and sentimental value.
“Fallen trees were everywhere and we had to avoid the branches, which was powerful hard to do. Besides, it was quite dusky among the trees long before night, but it was all so grand and awe-inspiring. Occasionally there was an opening through which we could see the snowy peaks, seemingly just beyond us, toward which we were headed.But when you get among such grandeur you get to feel how little you are and how foolish is human endeavor, except that which reunites us with the mighty force called god. I was plumb uncomfortable, because all my own efforts have always been just to make the best of everything and to take things as they come.”
One of my friends sent me her worn out copy of this book as a loaner, because she believed it was such a great book. When it arrived it was so worn out from so many hands reading it. I loved it, so I suggested it for our book group and read it again.
What makes this story so good? First, it is a true story written in the very early 1900s by a woman who had lost her husband and had then taken on a job as a housekeeper for a rancher in Wyoming. Along with the job, she had purchased land next to her new boss, intending to homestead it. She then began writing eloquent letters to her former boss, letters that were filled with adventure, as well as her life on the ranch.
What makes this story so good is the fact that she didn’t talk about mundane things, instead she had adventures, but a few things are mundane, like talking about the food they are eating, no so mundane to me. I knew that I would have had to develop a taste for venision, for example, but some of the meals were really good.
Then there is a story of her taking her young daughter on a camping trip when she knew that it could snow. They spent the night 30 miles from home, sleeping under a tree whose branches came to the ground. The idea was squeeze between the branches, blocking out access to wild animals like bears or cougars. Good luck, especially since she had built a campfire and was cooking their dinner, which could have attracted bears. When they woke up the next morning snow had covered the ground. This is when I began questioning her common sense, but then people have questioned my own over the years when I was on my own adventures. So now they had to find their way home. A 30 mile rope connected to her home would have been a good idea. Ha. Books like this remind me of The Long Winter by Laura Ingalls Wilder or Thirty Six Hours of Hell by E.N. Coones. And right now I am thinking of the -100 degree windchill factor in New Hampshire and wondering how people and their livestock are surviving, and then wondering how they would keep their homes warm.
Other stories in this book were just not fascinating but caring as well. Taking food to a starving family, and then on Christmas taking food to the sheepherders in the area, which would make this a good Christmas book.
So, if you get a chance check this book out as well as the other two that I have mentioned.
Nov 18, 1145am ~~ I don't know about anybody else, but whenever I read the word homesteading, I think of pioneer days, as in back in the 1800's. Even though I know it is possible to homestead even in 2022, I still create a mental picture of Long Ago for any such thing to be happening.
That is what happened with me when I began this book. The original publication date was 1914. I assumed that the letters making up the book would be from long before that. But they were letters written from April 1909 to November 1913. Once I adjusted my little pea brain to that fact I was much less confused. lol
Elinore Pruitt Stewart was a widow living in Denver with her young daughter when she decided she needed to change her life. The book is made of letters written to her friend Mrs. Coney after EPS arrived in Wyoming. We don't actually learn the exact details of how she got there until letter number 23, dated June 1913. That is where she tells her friend 'how it happened'.
In the first couple of letters I didn't really think much of Elinore. She seemed to be one of those people with a smart-alecky approach to life, a little too hyper and forward for me to take to right away. But it wasn't very long before I was able to appreciate her personality, and I also think she settled a bit, maybe quit trying so hard to be funny and likeable and just let her real Self show up.
She was not as completely alone as other women homesteaders I have read about. She had been hired as a ranch housekeeper and decided to take her land claim on property bordering her boss's lands. She married the boss fairly quickly, but she insisted on running her homestead lands with her own money and doing as much of the work on it herself as she could.
I enjoyed her letters, and even though the person who wrote the forward to the book wished for more words about Stewart's life and less about the lives of the people around her such as 'Zebbie', I thought the stories she told about her neighbors were charming.
What is still hard to get into the little pea brain is how much work this woman did. She was quite capable of doing ranch work, house work, garden work, barn chores, and raising the children that came along to keep first daughter Jerrine company. I wonder how many of us these days would be able to do what Elinore did?!
I ended the book liking Elinore very much and I am looking forward to going on an elk hunt with her in the next collection of letters, which was published in 1915 and describe a time from July to October of 1914. And now that I have made friends, I think I will see if there are any other titles around by this homesteading woman!
I have fallen in love with Elinore Pruitt Stuart. For one thing, she's witty and kind. For another, I love her philosophy of scaring off troubles with a belly laugh. She's a keen observer of people and loves and can describe natural beauty. She is independent, curious, loyal, likes to eat, is kind to children and animals, is not afraid of hard work, is open-minded, and is honest enough to laugh at herself when she is wrong. She seems to have made friends easily, which is natural probably for someone who is a cheerful, sympathetic listener, rejoices in the joys of others, and enjoys work. At a hotel where she happens to be staying once night with her young daughter, she meets an older male acquaintance who is meeting his fiancée of twenty-five years who he hasn't seen in as long. On finding out that she is going to be married on arrival but that no preparations have been made, Pruitt invites herself to the wedding meal. In the course of decorating a partially built room, arranging a feast, and seeking hot water for the dusty bride's toilette, she ends up helping in the kitchen of the hotel because the landlady doesn't have enough help and a full house. She loses track of the time because she's having so much fun.
The woman is not perfect, nor are these perfect times, by any means, but it's an interesting picture of Wyoming society around 1910. At one point, Pruitt goes to a Mormon community and has a bunch of questions all ready for the 'bishop', but he is away. She and a friend end up staying at his second wife's home and being unable to bring herself to ask the questions because she has such pity for wife's situation. (The woman does talk about her husband and gives details of her domestic arrangements on the instigation of Pruitt's friend.) That she's not partial to Mormonism doesn't bother me. She's open about her opinions and is frankly interested in the phenomenon. It's a difference in belief. She is however horribly patronizing to and about "negroes." When she sees a black man on a train she guess he expects to be called "mister" and says that she'd learned after migrating to Wyoming from the South she could no longer call black people "uncle" and "auntie" as she had been used to do. It's disappointing how racist some of my homesteading heroines are. Laura Ingalls Wilder is also not free of prejudice and ignorance, though hers is directed toward native Americans.
In the back of my mind while reading this was the thought that the holy homestead act that gave white women like Pruitt such opportunity for independence was destructive of native cultures as well contributing significantly to the environmental disasters of the dust-bowl and extermination of the bison. So there's that.
But Elinore is some good company.
Side note: I had heard that this book was the basis/inspiration for the movie 1979 film Heartland. I loved that movie, but I remember it being a bit bleaker than I found the book. I'll be interested to see it again.
Elinore Pruitt Stuart me deja admirada y maravillada tras leer estas cartas llenas de encanto, humor y un amor por la naturaleza y el prójimo altamente contagioso. ¡A mi wishlist ya 'Cartas de una cazadora'! :D
Recently widowed and with a baby, Elinor decides to try and make something more for her and her daughter than just being a washer woman in Colorado in the early 1900s. She takes a housekeeping job to a rancher in Wyoming and purchases a homestead to cultivate and tend as well.
Her optimism, daring do, and enthusiasm to work are inspiring! And she’s so down to earth and likable. I would love to have known this woman. For this book is real letters from a real woman.
She has some great stories to boot.
Read it and be inspired!
Ages: 12+
Content Considerations: some hardships are told of people loosing babies, relatives, etc. A young girl gets pregnant out of wedlock and her parents disown her. Mentions some men being drunk. A man is shot. Mormonism and polygamy are discussed.
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Hay dos subgéneros cinematográficos que son un misterio para mí porque nunca jamas he visto ninguna película de esa temática: las películas de James Bond y las películas del Oeste. Lo único que tienen en común unas y otras es una idea de la masculinidad, de la violencia, del honor... que no puede interesarme menos. Por eso estoy tan sorprendido y tan contento de que “Cartas de una pionera” me haya interesado.
Al final esta novela epistolar no es más que el conjunto de cartas que una pionera de Wyoming de principios del siglo XX escribe a una antigua empleadora y amiga. Pero en estas cartas hay mucho material interesante. No solo la historia de una mujer que, harta de sus condiciones miserables de trabajo en la ciudad, decide aventurarse a convertirse en granjera, en pionera de un país naciente que necesita conquistar y poblar su oeste para poder prosperar; sino también una historia de aventuras clásicas (aludes de nieve, enfrentamiento con bestias salvajes); así como una historia de emprendimiento (ella es una viuda con una hija pequeña que se empeña, y consigue, prosperar en un entorno a priori hostil); y una historia decididamente feminista en una mujer que, por época y falta de formación, probablemente no conociera el significado de este concepto. Al final estás cartas cuentan una historia del Oeste, sí... pero nada que ver con indios y vaqueros. Es una historia de las mujeres pioneras en el oeste americano.
Me ha encantado leer un libro que es, esencialmente, optimista: una celebración a la vida, a la naturaleza, a la comunidad y a las reinvenciones. Cuando lo he acabado he buscado fotos de la señora (que puede dedicar cinco páginas a una merienda campestre y, sin embargo, resumir la muerte de un familiar en dos párrafos) y es justo como la imaginaba: su humanidad, su bonhomía, sus ganas de prosperar y de hacer felices a quienes le rodeaban saltan de su pecho a sus páginas.
No tengo palabras para describir lo que he disfrutado leyendo este libro. Me ha resultado delicioso. Las cartas escritas por Elinore hace tantos años, te trasladan a una época perdida, a una forma de vida en contacto con la naturaleza, de solidaridad entre vecinos y de amistades para toda la vida. Y también transmiten fuerza y vivacidad. Fuerza de una mujer que escapó de los estereotipos de su época, y que decidió tomar las riendas de su vida e irse a una nueva tierra para empezar de nuevo con su hija y con su propia hacienda. Vivacidad al leer como no tenía ningún problema en irse a la montaña para acampar bajo las estrellas y disfrutar de la naturaleza, o recorrer millas para ayudar a una familia necesitada. Creo que seguiré con el siguiente libro de cartas, para poder disfrutar de sus experiencias en medio de las montañas de Wyoming.
Al principio ME ENCANTÓ porque qué cosa más emocionante que lo que vivió esta persona: Ser una viuda cualquiera, atrapada en su trabajo de lavandera con el que nunca podría realmente ganar plata, y de pronto decidir que no era suficiente y partir a vivir en los campos, sin conocer a nadie, en tierras anónimas... y no solo vivir allí en el campo de otros, sino ELLA tener EL SUYO PROPIO, en plenos albores del siglo XX.
Al final (spoiler pero no spoiler) igual la vida le es más fácil porque resulta que se casa de nuevo altiro, jajaja, literal como al mes, y sobre todo en esos tiempos eso significa gran seguridad, pero aún así tiene su hacienda propia, y aprende a cultivar, a cuidar a la naturaleza, a expedicionar por los alrededores y etcétera, súper choro, definitivamente dan ganas de ir y hacer lo mismo. O sea, si yo hubiera vivido en esa época, me habría ido a inscribir ANTES DE AYER.
Pero, bueno, pasado el júbilo de la situación inicial tiene sus lados entretenidos y también sus lados más fomes. Bueno es que describe muy bien la época y además ella es divertida. Malo es que, siendo una persona muy sensible con el medio ambiente, me cuesta lidiar con lecturas donde matar animales y quitarle tierras al bosque es un triunfo, aunque a la vez... al menos cazaban directamente lo que comían en vez de pagarle a alguien más para que lo haga por ellos y aparte, bueno, era la vida que tenían y en su manera era sustentable, y creo que de haber nacido en esa época es muy posible que yo hubiera sido igual, porque era una cosa de sobrevivencia en ese entonces, no tanto de gula, como pasa a veces hoy en día en que casi todos quieren tener todo y así es cómo el planeta paga las consecuencias. En fin, sorry lo aguafiestas, pero bueno, esas partes me hicieron sufrir.
El libro son cartas reales de esta mujer que le escribió a una amiga real, que se hizo en los tiempos de lavandera, aunque parece que luego se fueron publicando y ella haciéndose famosa, entonces el tono personal pasó a ser más descriptivo y un poquito menos natural, pero se entiende, qué orgullo además para ella haber sido una de las que dejó registros de esos tiempos, más encima sabiéndolo.
Vale la pena leerlo, la verdad, pero no pasa nada si se avanza de a pedacitos. A mí al menos me pasó que hubo fragmentos que me interesaron mucho y otros pocazo.
Un par de citas:
1. Llegamos finalmente, y todo me resulta estupendo y muy, pero que muy agradable y no hay ningún problema con el señor Stewart en absoluto, pues en cuanto termina de comer se retira a su habitación y se pone a tocar la gaita. Una y otra vez, siempre el mismo soniquete de The Campbells Are Coming, a intervalos, durante todo el día, de siete a once de la noche. A ver si esos Campbell se dan prisa y vienen de una vez.
2. A continuación, escuchamos el grave bramido de la tormenta inminente. Zebbie llamó a los perros para que entraran y cerró bien la puerta. De la chimenea empezaron a saltar chispas llameantes. Jerrine yacía delante del fuego sobre una piel de oso, y la señora O'Shaughnessy y yo estábamos sentadas a un lado en un viejo escaño. Gavotte estaba tendido en el suelo, al otro lado del fuego, con la cabeza apoyada en las manos.
Zebbie sacó su querido y viejo violín, lo afinó y se puso a tocar. Afuera, la tormenta rugía con fuerza, cada vez más virulenta. Zebbie tocaba y tocaba. Cuando más tumultuosa y severa se tornaba la tormenta, más intensamente tocaba él.
Recuerdo que se me contuvo la respiración, por miedo de quela casa saliera volando por los aires en cualquier momento. Entonces Zebbie se puso a tocar lo que él llamó La retirada de Bonaparte. De repente, todo pareció destellar ante mí; vi a aquellos pobres y dolientes soldados arrastrándose por la nieve, sacrificios de la ambición disparatada de un hombre. Creo de verdad que estábamos todos hechizados. En ese momento no me hubiera extrañado haber visto brujas y gnomos rodando chimenea abajo o cabalgando sobre la cresta de la tormenta hacia la puerta.
Miré de reojo a la señora O'Shaughnessy. Estaba sentada con la barbilla apoyada en la mano, con la mirada absorta en el fuego. Zebbie parecía poseído, incombustible.
3. Al poco rato, el Old Baldy [montaña] lucía una corona de oro resplandeciente. Había salido el sol. Seguimos caminando y pronto llegamos a un arroyo. Nos estábamos lavando la cara en sus aguas congeladas, cuando de repente oímos el chasquido de unas ramitas, y pegamos un respingo. Saliendo de aquella maleza de abedules y sauces vimos aparecer un ciervo con dos cervatillos. Pararon a beber y a mordisquear los arbustos. Pero no tardaron en olfatear extraños; fue vernos con sus hermosos ojos asustados y evaporarse como el viento.
4. Un día, cuando yo pensaba que no había moros en la costa, me puse a examinar de hurtadillas el contenido del baúl de las herramientas, con el fin de hacerme de martillos, sierras y todo lo que me pudiera ser de utilidad para alguna labor de carpintería. El baúl de las herramientas se guarda en el granero: tanto el baúl como el granero suelen estar cerrados a cal y canto. El señor de la casa es de la opinión de que las mujeres no necesitan herramientas y de que el uso y el abuso de las suyas han conducido a varias guerras domésticas. Estaba regodeándome con mi oportunidad y aprovechándola a conciencia cuando [se pone a hablar de otra cosa]
5. :o
Nos quedamos dos días y aquello fue una fiesta de sesión continua. Comimos venado cocinado de media docena de modos diferentes. Comimos antílope, puercoespín o erico, y también comimos cola de castor, que a él le parecía muy sabrosa, pero a mí no. Comimos faisán y urogallo. Rompieron el hielo y pescaron con nasa unas cuantas truchas. En la bodega tenían un barril de trucha preparada exactamente igual que la caballa y estaba más rica que la caballa pues era de hebra más fina.
6. Jajaja. En realidad el concepto moda es tan específico y corto en el tiempo.
Después de repartir los regalos, colocamos el fonógrafo en una caja y montamos un concierto bien hermoso. Tocamos Había pastores, Ave María y Sweet Christmas Bells. Estas canciones solo nos gustaban a los mayores, así que luego tocamos Arrah Wanna, Silver Bells, Rainbow, Red Wing y otras parecidas. ¡Estaban encantados!
7. Cuando leí lo mal que lo pasan los pobres de Denver me entraron ganas de animarles a todos a que salgan de ahí y registren la propiedad de alguna tierra. Me entusiasma ver cómo las mujeres se animan a la vida de la hacienda. En realidad, es menos fatigoso cultivar mucho para satisfacer a una gran familia que trabajar lavando, con la satisfacción añadida de saber que no vas a perder em epleo si te preocupas por mantenerlo. Incluso a pesar de que lleva su tiempo lograr mejores en el lugar, lo que cuenta es mantener en pie todo lo que se ha hecho. Da igual lo que se cultive, lo importante es que es propiedad del colono y de nadie más, y que no hay ningún alquiler de la casa que pagar.
Este año Jerrine cortó y sembró suficientes patatas como para cultivar una tonelada de buena calidad. Quería intentarlo, así que la dejamos, y no se olvide que solo tiene seis años. Teníamos un hombre que se encargó de abrir el terreno y cubrirle las patatas, hasta de regárselas una vez. Eso fue todo hasta que llegó el momento de cavar y Jerrine recogió sus patatas.
Cualquier mujer con fuerzas suficientes para pasarse el día afuera podría hacer todo el trabajo, incluso dos o tres veces más, y le resultaría mucho más agradable que trabajar duro en la ciudad, y encima morirse de hambre en invierno con la cartilla de racionamiento.
Para mí, la colonización es la solución a todos los problemas de la pobreza, pero soy consciente de que el éxito de cualquier proyecto depende del temperamento de cada cual. Por ejemplo, quien tenga aprensión a los coyotes, al trabajo y a la soledad mejor que se olvide de la vida en el rancho. Por otro lado, cualquier mujer a la que no le importe su propia compañía, sea capaz de apreciar la belleza del ocaso, le guste cultivar cosas y esté dispuesta a invertir tanto tiempo como sea necesario en el desempeño cuicadoso de la brega, tal y como hace en el lavadero, tendrá éxito seguro, independencia, toda la comida que quiera y, en definivita, una casa propia. (...)
Aquí estoy aburriéndiole hasta la muerte con cosas que ni le van ni le vienen. Va a pensarse que quiero convencerle para que se monte una hacienda, ¿a que sí? Pero a mí lo único que me preocupa son los batallones de mujeres cansadas, preocupadas, a veces con frío y con hambre, muertas de miedo de perder sus trabajos, que podrían disponer de comida a montones y de buenas hogueras con solo recoger leña, y de casas acogedoras de su propiedad si tuvieran el coraje y la voluntad de conseguirlo.
8. La señora O'Shaughnessy fue la que más ayudó. Es una mujer muy valiente y decidida, sensata y juiciosa. Hace unos días, un hombre que trabajaba para ella se machacó la uña del dedo y no se preocupó de cuidársela. La señora O'Shaughnessy se la examinó y descubrió que estaba gangrenándose. No se lo dijo, pero le hizo varias curas y lo que sí le dijo fue que había oído que se podía comprobar si había peligro de sepsis si se ponía el dedo sobre madera y el paciente miraba hacia el sol. Dijo que la persona que observara el dedo podría entonces ver si había algún tipo de infección. Así que el hombre colocó el dedo encima de la tabla de picar y antes que le diera tiempo a pestañear, la señora O'Shaughnessy le había cortado el dedo negro e hinchado. Fue tan rápido e inesperado que no pareció doloroso.
Luego ella le mostró la vena verde que ya le subía por el brazo. Como el hombre parecía mareado y temiendo que le diera un pasmo, le dio una dosis de morfina y whisky. A continuación, con un movimiento rápido de navaja, le abrió la vena verde y le sumergió todo el brazo en una solución fuerte de bicloruro de mercurio durante veinte minutos. Luego vendó la herida con algodón absorbente saturado con aceite de oliva y ácido carbólico, arropó a su paciente, lo subió a una calesa y condujo de noche cuarenta y cinco millas para ver a un médico. El médico nos dijo que el hombre había salvado su vida gracias a la rápida reacción y a los conocimientos de a señora O'Shaughnessy.
9. La señora Louderer se lo estaba pasando en grande. Le gustaban tanto los niños. Ella y Clyde habían contratado al "afrontador" para que les empapelase la habitación. Lo llaman así porque afronta todo tipo de tareas, sepa o no cómo realizarlas. Él piensa que entiende mucho sobre lo que es apropiado y sobre belleza. El papel tiene una franja de rosas y el afrontador puso al revés las franjas alternas, de manera que algunas de mis rosas ahora resulta que están boca abajo. Según él, las rosas no crecen todas del mismo modo, así que gracias a su métido "tienen un aire mucho más natural".
I feel it would be unfair to rate someone's actual letters, a living person's letters, as I would a book. If, say, I wrote letters to a friend now, thinking nobody else will ever see or read them, who knows what I'd write? Imagine someone publishing your emails to your best friend. Yeah... Nope. Right? And that's why I'm not rating this book.
But anyway, it was mostly boring, but also somewhat informative, and that's why I wanted to read it in the first place. I'm always curious about how actual people lived - and historical novels just don't cut it, they're just fiction. Life is often more simple than that, although sometimes it's wilder too. In this case, it was more simple. But that's okay, since I still noticed two interesting things that I took away from this book.
First of all, it's how much community they seemed to have. Everyone had neighbors and kept them close. It's a thing I've always noticed about fiction from that day as well. Sadly, it's a thing we don't have anymore. We are so lonely. I will always envy the woman who wrote this letter the amazing community she had. It's just not so much a thing that happens these days, it seems. Or at least, maybe not in cities. I hope maybe it still does in rural places like the homestead in the book.
The second thing was how optimistic this woman's outlook was. She had her fair share of sadness - a husband dead, a baby lost to illness. But she didn't let it put her down. She knew she wanted to smile and to find something good in any situation. I've never been able to do that, so I admire real stories of people who seemed to be able to. Fascinating.
Oh, but content warning: this was written like literally more than 100 years ago, so there's definitely some casual racism :(
Lo más destacable de estas cartas —aparte de la valentía intrínseca de Elinore, que eso es indiscutible— es el sentido del humor con que están escritas. Te ríes muchísimo de la ironía que desprenden y de cómo Elinore va interactuando con otros pioneros que viven cerca, ayudándose unos a otros a salir adelante y sobrevivir en esos indómitos parajes.
La alegría de nuestra pionera es contagiosa. En una de esas ocasiones que, tras trabajar duramente, sale con su hija a dar una vuelta, se queda a dormir al raso contemplando las estrellas y poniendo a asar una liebre que ella misma ha cazado. Una tormenta de nieve le sorprende durante la noche y al despertar pierde la noción de dónde se encuentra. ¿Y qué hace ella?, ¿perder los nervios y lamentarse de su situación? Para nada, observa que el fuego no se ha apagado del todo, así que se prepara un suculento desayuno y un buen y delicioso café y se convence de que con el estómago lleno va a pensar mucho mejor.
Es verdad que podemos intuir su dureza interior de roble. Sus padres fallecieron cuando era muy pequeña y formaba parte de una familia de seis hermanos. Ella misma lo cuenta: cómo tuvo que trabajar y “hacer trabajos de hombres” desde muy temprana edad. Lo mismo ensilla caballos, que pesca truchas, que siembra y siega y te hace jaleas en conserva y mermeladas. Pero por encima de las duras circunstancias de vida que tuvo que afrontar desde muy pequeña hay algo estoico e independiente en su ser: la vida en Denver no le llenaba y deseaba vivir en libertad sin tener que soportar a ningún hombre. Ella es autosuficiente, lo cual para la moral de la época tuvo que ser un escándalo.
Y esas son las mejores páginas del libro, que en mi opinión va de más a menos. Es un poco doloroso decirlo, pero a medida que Elinore se va “civilizando” y vuelve a casarse, yo como lector fui, paulatinamente, perdiendo interés. Lógicamente le deseo lo mejor a nivel personal, y de vez en cuando vuelve a despertar mi interés al relatar la preparación de una comida o hablándonos sobre su propia boda. Son pequeños destellos de ese hechizo en el que descubrimos su arrolladora personalidad; su enorme capacidad imaginativa para revertir cualquier carencia y esa alegría de vivir y de disfrutar de la vida.
En definitiva, un libro delicioso y fresco, sobre todo en sus primeras páginas. Muy recomendable para llenarse de tesón y de alegría.
Un libro precioso y sencillo sobre una mujer fuerte, valiente, optimista, y amante de la naturaleza. Es un libro que huele a empoderamiento, pino y a bollitos calientes. Una delicia.
In 1912 A woman homesteader (Elinore Pruitt Stewart) writes a series of letters (26 in all) to family and friends. She goes into such detail of ranch life, her children and her everyday duties to keep the ranch and her home in good order. There is a lot of humor and good sense in her writing.
Letters of a Woman Homesteader hits close to my heart. My husband and I farm the land that his grand-parents first homestead in the 1910’s. I was not born here but I immigrated from Brazil close to 25 years ago. It was, and in some ways still is, a very hard adaptation to rural life and Canadian winters. I often think of those women pioneers that braved this land without the amenities I have: indoor plumbing, electricity, cars, phones, internet. Their stories and bravery is still part of the local lore: the neighbor lady who was the midwife; the grandmother who took a hammer and destroyed her brother’s moonshine setup; the feeding of dozens of men while those crews harvested the land; on and on…
Elinore Pruitt Stewart adds another dimension to the experience of these women, that of feminism. Elinore certainly never rationalized it this way, but her approach to homesteading and farming was that it could raise women above the poverty and hard labour of the cities:
When I read of the hard times among the Denver poor, I feel like urging them every one to get out and file on land. I am very enthusiastic about women homesteading. It really requires less strength and labour to raise plenty to satisfy a large family than it does to go out to wash, with the added satisfaction of knowing that their job will not be lost to them if they care to keep it.
Then, in another passage, she says:
Any woman who can stand her own company, can see the beauty of the sunset, loves growing things, and is willing to put in as much time and careful labor as she does over the washtub, can certainly succeed.
In her discourse one can also see the seeds of the more recent trend of returning to nature and agriculture as a mean to connect mankind to the land.
But if the passages I mention sound a bit preachy, the bulk of the letters are a colorful chronicle of the place and people she meets and often befriends. Elinore is poetic at times, describing sunsets and sunrises or early snow, and shows a strength of character to border the insufferable: when no minister or priest was available, she conduct the funeral service for her new-born son.
I am so happy these letters were saved and printed. No, they are not highly literary, but they bear witnesses to a whole generation of pioneers and their boldness.
Que gozada! Si, este libro es de esos que me encantan! Mi lugar seguro. Me encanta leer sobre esas mujeres pioneras, 4x4, todoterreno. El hecho de descender de muchas de ellas, me hace sentir muy cercana. Y pensar que es mi sueño de vida, jubilarme de esta manera: cabaña, en medio de faldas de pinos y encinos, jardines, huertos, con el aire frio de cobijo... ya me vi ❤
*Por ejemplo, quien tenga aprensión a los coyotes, al trabajo y a la soledad mejor que se olvide de la vida en el rancho. Por otro lado, cualquier mujer a la que no le importe su propia compañía, sea capaz de apreciar la belleza del ocaso, le guste cultivar cosas y esté dispuesta a invertir tanto tiempo como sea necesario en el desempeño cuidadoso de la brega, tal y como hace en el lavadero, tendrá éxito seguro, independencia, toda la comida que quiera, y en definitiva, una casa propia.
En esta ocasión nos encontramos una novela epistolar, es decir, un conjunto de cartas que una pionera de Wyoming de principios del siglo XX, llamada Elinore escribe a una antigua empleadora y que considera su amiga, donde le va relatando no solo su historia, donde se incluye con todo lujo de detalles todos los avatares a los que tiene que hacer frente en esa época, a mi me resulto interesante, dado que conoces como se vivía en aquella época, cual era el papel de la mujer, lo que significaba el sacrificio, la tierra. Las descripciones en ocasiones te trasladan a eso paisajes y pareces que puedes estar viéndolo con los ojos de la protagonista.
I think this is now one of my favorite books. I loved the history, the grit and determination, the nature and geography, and most of all Elinor's wit and humor. I would somewhat describe her as a homesteader Anne of Green Gables. Her optimistic letters give a picture of true life on the range but still a hopeful view. I loved it and will read it again and again.
It only took me a day to read/listen. I found myself trying to listen to it at every moment available.
A couple things that might be found offensive, the use of N--- as describing Black Americans and the perception of Mormons.
A wonderfully interesting book about a young widow who travels to Wyoming with her baby to become a housekeeper to a rancher there. She buys a plot of land and works hard to establish a new life for herself. Each letter is a joy to read, she is so appreciative of the countryside and the people she meets. It was a hard life as a homesteader but she is always positive. I just wish there had been more letters to enjoy.
Just the most persistently cheerful and pragmatic voice in women's history. "It is true, I want a great many things I haven't got, but I don't want them enough to be discontent and not enjoy the many that are mine...." She is too sharp witted to be saccharine, too self-deprecating to be maudlin, and too full of an adventurous spirit for there ever to be a dull page. Simple, yes, but wonderfully dear.
Este libro no es una novela, contiene una serie de cartas que la autora envía a su patrona y donde narra su día a día como colona en el oeste americano. Una delicia. Mi reseña: http://contandoteunlibro.blogspot.com...
These letters make for a fascinating narrative and descriptive journal of Mrs. Stewart's life, moving from the city to a Wyoming homestead, marrying and still having the determination to homestead ON HER OWN. She is a very positive, optimistic individual, generous and giving, nearly always seeing the positive in others. Her words and attitude are inspirational.
Whether tidbits are fabricated or exaggerated is a bit of topic of debate. However, the general storylines, characters, and situations are nonfiction, and it is quite fascinating to see the interrelations of early Western life, homesteading and cattle ranching. Mrs. Stewart always leaves a few choice words regarding her luck and love in life.
She sees the beauty in everything: "Everything, even the barrenness, was beautiful" (28). She incorporates some faith (though seemingly nondenominational) into her awe with Wyoming's natural beauty: "when you get among such grandeur you get to feel how little you are and how foolish is human endeavor, except that which reunites us with the mighty force called God" (30). Choice bits of attitude and knowledge: "I am the luckiest woman in finding really lovely people and having really happy experiences. Good things are constantly happening to me" (62). "Those who try know that strength and knowledge come with doing" (282). She is humorous (and loves camping): "fastidiousness about food is a good thing to get rid of when you come West to camp" (166). And she can maintain a wintry mountain scene with pure love and passion, bubbling up your own feelings and sentiments: "I love the flicker of an open fire, the smell of the pines, the pure, sweet air, and I went to sleep thinking how blest I was to be able to enjoy the things I love most" (198).
I just recently purchased her other "official" letters collection, Letters From an Elk Hunt, and I'm excited to read it.
Qué viaje al pasado y a la vida cotidiana, a las montañas y a los lugares donde todo está por hacer. Las cartas de Elinore se quedan escasas para lo mucho que quieres seguir sabiendo de ella y del mundo en el que se desenvolvió sin miedo.
I first read this just a little over three years ago, and I loved it immediately. I'm happy to report that I love it still. How absolutely delightful it is! I smiled and chuckled and cheered throughout it.
Elinore Pruitt Rupert, a widow with a young daughter, took a job keeping house for a man named Clyde Stewart out on the plains of Wyoming in 1909. She wanted to try homesteading for herself, but knew she'd need some way of keeping herself and her daughter until she had her homestead up and running, so hit upon the idea of keeping house for some established rancher or farmer to begin with. But she insisted on doing the work of homesteading on her own to see if a determined woman could make a go of it. And make a go of it, she certainly did.
For me, the chief delight of this book is how intrepidly and joyfully this woman faces life. She goes about having adventures, helping people, making the very best of life in every situation. Even though her life certainly isn't easy, and she faces heartache, she does not lose her hope or her joy or her faith. Amazing woman.
My initial review was lost since I first read this book in 2013. I have just finished it again five years later, and enjoyed it even more the second time. What I love about Elinore Pruitt Stewart's letters is how they reveal her indomitable spirit and determination to be cheerful. Although she lost her husband at a young age, and then an infant boy, she never lacked optimism. And she absolutely loved homesteading! "Any woman who can stand her own company, can see the beauty of a sunset, loves growing things, and is willing to put in as much time at careful labor as she does over a washtub (she was a former washwoman) will certainly succeed; will have independence, plenty to eat all the time, and a home of her own in the end." Filled with grace and humour, this is a truly uplifting book.
I enjoyed the voice of the MC in this autobiography via letters. She was a single parent and a homesteader. It was 'mighty powerful' to use a term that she used a lot. Her voice felt so authentic. I love reading about the pioneer spirit and she had a double helping. I loved her descriptions of the people and the places.