Conrad Richter (1890–1968)

This book, the second in a trilogy, continues the story of Sayward and her growing clan as they continue to carve their lives out of the forests of Ohio, at the turn of the 19th century. Having hewn out a clearing for themselves, quite literally, the pioneers can now begin to look out on open fields of wheat and corn with a measure of hopefulness that they are making progress against the frontier.

Even so the war rages on: no longer battling the dense forests, their open fields are perfect show more targets for all the small animals expropriated from the dense cover of trees: it is a constant battle to eke out a living out of the fields of wheat and corn, from battling the squirrels who eat the seeds to the deer who eat all the young shoots before they can have time to mature. Where once the forest provided shelter and food, the open fields now make them slaves to a different kind of cruel environment: slaves to drought and famine, created by their own resourcefulness and industry. In a cruel irony, the pioneers face worse problems in the fields than they did in the dense forests.

In eloquent dialect, and true to the period, Richter leaves readers feeling they are reading a personal diary of the period. Like a memoir, it seduces you into Sayward's life, and you emerge from the book having felt you experienced her life, rather than merely read about it. show less

As a stand-alone this doesn’t begin to compare to the first book in Conrad Richter’s The Awakening Land series, The Trees, but it is a satisfying conclusion to the story of the first pioneers to settle the Ohio Valley. What I liked was that it brought to life the traces of 19th century Ohio I’ve glimpsed in small towns along the canal that linked the Tuscarawas to Lake Erie and the Ohio River (although I've read this is set in a fictional town along the Scioto). What I didn’t like show more was that it focused as much on Sayward Luckett Wheeler’s youngest child Chancey as much as it did on Sayward herself and on the early Ohio history she and her fellow settlers helped to shape. This did show how their self sufficiency and resilience set them apart from the generations that followed but I felt the moralizing was heavy handed and detracted from the historical feel that made the first two books so special. Still, an outstanding series and well worth rereading. show less

This novel concludes the trilogy of pioneering family clan, Luckett-Wheeler. It has been a very long time since I have been so moved by a novel -- indeed I was enraptured by the entire series. I find myself still fading into 19th Century Ohio, and meeting Sayward's ghost out of the corner of my eye, she is still so present within me. Richter does for 19thC America what Dickens did for 19thC England: vivid, animated, theatrical; brilliantly painted. I could pull out the thesaurus at this show more time, and just use all the words therein to describe a scintillating read, and that might just be enough!

The Town encompasses the span of Sayward's life as she makes the move from "cabin to county seat", but we are left wondering if, after all, civilization is not a double-edged sword. When we first encounter Sayward, in the first book of the trilogy, we battle the paradox of nature with her: the cruelty and the kindness of it; the beauty, and its darkness. Similarly, we explore those themes within this last novel, but this time battling with the paradox of humanity: whether we are better off as simple citizens of the world, struggling daily for our bread; or whether the work of the mind is the nobler struggle. Richter leaves no doubt which he champions -- but I will not spoil the exploration for you!

If you are looking for a good, old fashioned read, that engages mind and soul, and demands something of you, while entertaining you beyond measure, this is a must-read! show less

Richter's writing brought to mind the rhythms and cadences of Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings's The Yearling -- a pure reading of the time and state, without one glimmer of the revisionist's eye.

The novel enveloped me in the pioneering world of 1790, middle America, and I did not emerge until it rung its last stroke of the axe, as the clearings began to show face in the crowded landscape of trees. It felt to me a most accurate representation of what pioneering must have truly been like -- bugs, show more and lice and the oppressive push of the trees for some; wilderness and freedom and pure elemental nature, for others. Even within the pioneering spirit, there lay the dichotomy of town versus wilderness: those who longed to carve out their space out of it, and those who sought to submerge themselves within it. On both counts, Richter does justice to those brave men and women who insinuated themselves into the frontier, on their own terms. show less