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A review by macloo
The Song of the Lark by Willa Cather
4.0
An old-fashioned book, centered on a single female character who is always shown to us outside herself, through the eyes of men. I want to remember how unexpected and delightful the brief Epilogue is. I want to remember that there's a whole segment of the story that takes place among Native American cliff dwellings somewhere in Colorado (not said to be Mesa Verde), and these are featured on the cover of my 1999 Vintage Paperbacks edition (which does not exist on Goodreads) and made a particular impression on me, because it is during her time in that canyon that Thea, then not quite 20 years old, gets a sense of what she could aspire to.
When we first meet Thea she's a girl, maybe 10 years old, living in a small Colorado town not very close to Denver. Our first impressions of her are from the young country doctor there. I kept thinking today about how much very good luck she had in her life, although we don't begrudge her because she also works very, very hard, and she has an absolutely steely will to succeed. Also, she never feels she is owed anything. She expects to work hard, and so she does.
Her mother, in spite of having five or six other children, insists that Thea be able to take piano lessons with an old German maestro (the term might give him too much credit). Thea gets a little bit of money that enables her to go to Chicago to study piano with a tutor, who recognizes that her voice is remarkable and introduces her to a well-connected voice teacher. Her good luck includes her not falling in with any bad or exploitative men, although she makes friends with and is much admired by a number of men — almost all of whom help her in significant ways.
It's an odd book in that it centers on Thea's talent and how much struggle — as well as luck — it requires for her to be able to use it, to eventually bring it before the kinds of audiences one would hope she will have. The final segment of the book really nails that, when she's in the final period of an ascent that might reach the pinnacle — or might not. There are no guarantees. Yet it will be through no failing of Thea's if she does not make it in the end. Her determination is epic.
I admire the book, and Thea, but I didn't always enjoy reading it. I think that's mostly because of the distance I felt from Thea — the reader is rarely inside her head, and there's a kind of formality or even stodginess to the story that muted my enthusiasm.
When we first meet Thea she's a girl, maybe 10 years old, living in a small Colorado town not very close to Denver. Our first impressions of her are from the young country doctor there. I kept thinking today about how much very good luck she had in her life, although we don't begrudge her because she also works very, very hard, and she has an absolutely steely will to succeed. Also, she never feels she is owed anything. She expects to work hard, and so she does.
Her mother, in spite of having five or six other children, insists that Thea be able to take piano lessons with an old German maestro (the term might give him too much credit). Thea gets a little bit of money that enables her to go to Chicago to study piano with a tutor, who recognizes that her voice is remarkable and introduces her to a well-connected voice teacher. Her good luck includes her not falling in with any bad or exploitative men, although she makes friends with and is much admired by a number of men — almost all of whom help her in significant ways.
It's an odd book in that it centers on Thea's talent and how much struggle — as well as luck — it requires for her to be able to use it, to eventually bring it before the kinds of audiences one would hope she will have. The final segment of the book really nails that, when she's in the final period of an ascent that might reach the pinnacle — or might not. There are no guarantees. Yet it will be through no failing of Thea's if she does not make it in the end. Her determination is epic.
I admire the book, and Thea, but I didn't always enjoy reading it. I think that's mostly because of the distance I felt from Thea — the reader is rarely inside her head, and there's a kind of formality or even stodginess to the story that muted my enthusiasm.