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A review by j_f
Dancing at the Rascal Fair by Ivan Doig
4.0
Spanning three decades from about 1890 to 1920, Dancing at the Rascal Fair is the second book in the Montana trilogy by Ivan Doig. Though it is the second volume, many readers—including me—read it first, because it comes before the first book in the series chronologically. I have yet to determine if reading it in this order was a good idea, but there was nothing in this book that seems to spoil previous plot lines, and other readers recommend reading Dancing at the Rascal Fair first. The novel follows Angus McCaskill, a young Scottish man who comes to the U.S. around 1889 and become a homesteader in Montana territory. From there, it follows the lives of him, his family and close friends.
Readers of historical fiction in the Western genre will most likely appreciate this book. I do find it important to note that other readers have claimed that you will enjoy Ivan Doig’s work if you have enjoyed the works of Norman Maclean (A River Runs Through It) and Wallace Stegner (Angle of Repose). I thought the former novel was just OK, while the latter was mind-numbingly dull, yet I quite enjoy Doig’s writing, so I’m not sure where that comparison stems from.
I can understand the comparison to Maclean more—the Montana setting, the boy’s coming of age, the romantic and slow-paced writing. But Doig certainly inserts more plot into his novels than Maclean did.
It is the comparison to Stegner that I plainly don’t understand. Angle of Repose was one of the most boring, emotionless, vanilla stories I’ve ever read. Dancing at the Rascal Fair is not perfect, but it cannot be called boring or emotionless; in fact, one of its only flaws is how dramatic it is. So, call me confused.
Some parts of this novel require you to enjoy reading about farm life. “The simple life.” If that is boring to you, even in spaced-out chunks that don’t take over the novel, you probably won’t enjoy this (or much of Doig’s work). But, if you’re coming to this review after reading the book’s synopsis, you’re probably more concerned about the novel as a story, not as a Western.
This is not a happy story. It’s not a terribly sad story, either, or maybe I just have a high tolerance for misery. But it’s no Little House on the Prairie. It deals with grief and unfulfilled dreams and unrequited love and broken relationships. Yet, the author doesn’t delve into full-on tragedy, and the novel mostly contains a dream-like quality that really works in a historical fiction, rendering it highly immersive. As a result, it is also easy to remain at a distance from the sadness or pain of the characters, because they don’t seem fully real. That’s a good thing in this case; if you empathize with every single fictional character you read about, you will lose your mind.
However, my main complaint with this novel is the narrator, Angus. He is the family patriarch, and frankly, the prima donna/drama king. I hand it to Ivan Doig; I’ve never read a male character portrayed as so emotional before. There is something refreshing in that, but the refreshment quickly dissipates when you read on, because Angus becomes so irrational that his behaviour devolves into immaturity. And the worst part is that it doesn’t seem like Doig is doing this entirely intentionally; it seems like he’s trying to make the character “passionate.” But whatever Angus’ motives, his actions are, at a certain point, inexcusable in my opinion.
Maybe the author intended that to be a point of discussion—whether the reader agrees with Angus. But, as a reading experience, because Angus is the only point-of-view character, his irrational view of the world becomes stifling at times. Still, I didn’t take off too many stars for this, because I think his character is interesting to ponder, and more foolish people certainly have existed in real life.
Also, having now read two of Doig’s novels, I am starting to think he’s not so good at writing female characters, or he doesn’t try hard enough. His novels focus on men—boys, adults, everything in between—and that’s perfectly fine, but when he does have to write a female character, they aren’t nearly as fleshed out. There were a few examples in this novel, and because Angus’ narrative voice was so strong and “passionate,” his understanding of the motivations of other characters is limited. And so, the motivations of the women become murky at best, or non-existent or confused at worst. I think the author does an OK job covering up for this flaw in his writing, though; he doesn’t actively write any offensive or unbelievable women characters, he just doesn’t write about them a whole lot. But if you’re looking to read about the women of Montana in this era, look elsewhere.
Now that I think of it, this is indicative of wider problem, wherein Doig doesn’t do a great job of writing characters with emotional depth. This isn’t a deal-breaker for me, but I found that the characters sometimes did things or made choices that made me balk. I felt that certain characters didn’t get mad when they should have, while at other times, characters who were upset were melodramatic.
Readers of historical fiction in the Western genre will most likely appreciate this book. I do find it important to note that other readers have claimed that you will enjoy Ivan Doig’s work if you have enjoyed the works of Norman Maclean (A River Runs Through It) and Wallace Stegner (Angle of Repose). I thought the former novel was just OK, while the latter was mind-numbingly dull, yet I quite enjoy Doig’s writing, so I’m not sure where that comparison stems from.
I can understand the comparison to Maclean more—the Montana setting, the boy’s coming of age, the romantic and slow-paced writing. But Doig certainly inserts more plot into his novels than Maclean did.
It is the comparison to Stegner that I plainly don’t understand. Angle of Repose was one of the most boring, emotionless, vanilla stories I’ve ever read. Dancing at the Rascal Fair is not perfect, but it cannot be called boring or emotionless; in fact, one of its only flaws is how dramatic it is. So, call me confused.
Some parts of this novel require you to enjoy reading about farm life. “The simple life.” If that is boring to you, even in spaced-out chunks that don’t take over the novel, you probably won’t enjoy this (or much of Doig’s work). But, if you’re coming to this review after reading the book’s synopsis, you’re probably more concerned about the novel as a story, not as a Western.
This is not a happy story. It’s not a terribly sad story, either, or maybe I just have a high tolerance for misery. But it’s no Little House on the Prairie. It deals with grief and unfulfilled dreams and unrequited love and broken relationships. Yet, the author doesn’t delve into full-on tragedy, and the novel mostly contains a dream-like quality that really works in a historical fiction, rendering it highly immersive. As a result, it is also easy to remain at a distance from the sadness or pain of the characters, because they don’t seem fully real. That’s a good thing in this case; if you empathize with every single fictional character you read about, you will lose your mind.
However, my main complaint with this novel is the narrator, Angus. He is the family patriarch, and frankly, the prima donna/drama king. I hand it to Ivan Doig; I’ve never read a male character portrayed as so emotional before. There is something refreshing in that, but the refreshment quickly dissipates when you read on, because Angus becomes so irrational that his behaviour devolves into immaturity. And the worst part is that it doesn’t seem like Doig is doing this entirely intentionally; it seems like he’s trying to make the character “passionate.” But whatever Angus’ motives, his actions are, at a certain point, inexcusable in my opinion.
Maybe the author intended that to be a point of discussion—whether the reader agrees with Angus. But, as a reading experience, because Angus is the only point-of-view character, his irrational view of the world becomes stifling at times. Still, I didn’t take off too many stars for this, because I think his character is interesting to ponder, and more foolish people certainly have existed in real life.
Also, having now read two of Doig’s novels, I am starting to think he’s not so good at writing female characters, or he doesn’t try hard enough. His novels focus on men—boys, adults, everything in between—and that’s perfectly fine, but when he does have to write a female character, they aren’t nearly as fleshed out. There were a few examples in this novel, and because Angus’ narrative voice was so strong and “passionate,” his understanding of the motivations of other characters is limited. And so, the motivations of the women become murky at best, or non-existent or confused at worst. I think the author does an OK job covering up for this flaw in his writing, though; he doesn’t actively write any offensive or unbelievable women characters, he just doesn’t write about them a whole lot. But if you’re looking to read about the women of Montana in this era, look elsewhere.
Now that I think of it, this is indicative of wider problem, wherein Doig doesn’t do a great job of writing characters with emotional depth. This isn’t a deal-breaker for me, but I found that the characters sometimes did things or made choices that made me balk. I felt that certain characters didn’t get mad when they should have, while at other times, characters who were upset were melodramatic.