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A review by jessferg
Letters from an American Farmer by J. Hector St. John de Crèvecoeur
3.0
I don't remember how I fell over this book but I had never heard of it despite it's apparent fame and historical import.
It is painful to read both for its language and its topic. The last 26 pages are the equivalent of "Can't stay here. Leaving soon to live with the Indians. Revolution imminent." Given that my desire for a little more brevity, particularly when nothing new is being provided and there is no "poetry" to the language, is most likely due to my 21st century sensibilities but surely there is a common ground somewhere in the middle. (I kind of remember it from the 1900s.)
At times these letters feel very much like propaganda and bravado - America is so wonderful! We have all the land we could want (just ignore the "natives") and we are all self-made men with no vices! Come on over!
But just as quickly it becomes an embarrassing portrayal of the founding of the country. Within 100 years of being a refuge for the religiously persecuted, it's already come back around to the British way or the highway - although a bit of a fuss is made about the ability for everyone to worship in the Christian church of their choice. Other Europeans are tolerated, mostly because they are rather amusing, but they'd better be abiding by British law and customs. Natives are simply to be dealt with in the same way as a pesky fly - unless they have something of value. And slaves? Oh, wonderful slaves! They are treated quite well as long as they do what they are asked to do. In fact, in the Northern states they are just as happy as free white men and given nearly all the same freedoms.
Who knew?
It's too hard to even get angry at such blatant ego, ignorance, and justifications - it's just shameful.
I can't help comparing this book to the dystopian literature I've come to love - a world found, ravaged, spoiled, and gone mad. Unfortunately, I don't know how this one is going to end.
It is painful to read both for its language and its topic. The last 26 pages are the equivalent of "Can't stay here. Leaving soon to live with the Indians. Revolution imminent." Given that my desire for a little more brevity, particularly when nothing new is being provided and there is no "poetry" to the language, is most likely due to my 21st century sensibilities but surely there is a common ground somewhere in the middle. (I kind of remember it from the 1900s.)
At times these letters feel very much like propaganda and bravado - America is so wonderful! We have all the land we could want (just ignore the "natives") and we are all self-made men with no vices! Come on over!
But just as quickly it becomes an embarrassing portrayal of the founding of the country. Within 100 years of being a refuge for the religiously persecuted, it's already come back around to the British way or the highway - although a bit of a fuss is made about the ability for everyone to worship in the Christian church of their choice. Other Europeans are tolerated, mostly because they are rather amusing, but they'd better be abiding by British law and customs. Natives are simply to be dealt with in the same way as a pesky fly - unless they have something of value. And slaves? Oh, wonderful slaves! They are treated quite well as long as they do what they are asked to do. In fact, in the Northern states they are just as happy as free white men and given nearly all the same freedoms.
Who knew?
It's too hard to even get angry at such blatant ego, ignorance, and justifications - it's just shameful.
I can't help comparing this book to the dystopian literature I've come to love - a world found, ravaged, spoiled, and gone mad. Unfortunately, I don't know how this one is going to end.