Little House on the Prairie

This book began to develop a little beyond just the catalog of everyday activities that Little House in the Big Woods basically was.

It touches on issues of racism and politics as it affects individuals. I enjoyed seeing how Ma and Pa handled their difference of opinion about their Native American neighbors. Each held to his or her own convictions on the matter, but each was respectful of the other person's view. Pa turned out to be right (thank goodness...I don't know how I would have explained it to my daughter had it turned out the other way), but he didn't lord it over Ma.

Wilder's descriptions grew more effective and more emotionally real in this book. She does a lot to convey emotion with a minimum of words. There was more than one show more scene along the trail in front of the house in which the tension was just so apparent. Wilder never had to come right out and explain that the situation between the natives and the white settlers was a tenuous one, she just let those scenes speak for themselves. show less

I didn't remember this one nearly as well as Little House in the Big Woods, but many of the incidents (and many of the illustrations) were familiar and welcome. I was struck in Big Woods by the ingenuity and courage of the settlers living on the frontiers in the 1870s; in Prairie I am no less impressed by those qualities, but the circumstances of the Ingalls family in this installment gives me the willies in a way that the realities of living in the Big Woods did not. Surely it is because I have always lived nestled among hills and under trees that the descriptions (and illustrations--maybe even especially the illustrations) of the wide open prairie and the notion of a house just plopped in the middle of all that space quite literally show more gives me the shivers. Do you know a person who must sit with his back to the wall in a restaurant because that open space behind him is discomfiting? That's how I feel about houses. They ought be backed up against the foot of a mountain or at the least tucked in a clearing with tall trees all around. I'm glad, I guess, that there are people who like that kind of open environment (both Pa and Laura in this book seem to take to the flat openness of the prairie particularly well) as not all of us can live at the foot of mountains--there just aren't enough of them. But I leave them to it.

The constant fear regarding encounters with restive Indians lent a sense of suspense to Prairie which was completely lacking in Big Woods. The fears I had about attitudes toward native peoples in this book were perhaps somewhat overblown. There is certainly othering going on here, and a fair amount of prejudice, but Laura (mostly) seems innocently fascinated by the Indians and Pa (though he definitely carries a nice load of white-settler-entitlement around with him) adopts a live-and-let-live attitude, talking his neighbors down from their fears on more than one occasion. Some passages made me squirm a bit, but keeping in mind the context in which the book was written and the time it recalls, and considering the perhaps more-enlightened-than-typical attitude of Pa, those passages weren't enough to ruin a series of childhood favorites. I would be fascinated, however, to read some articles delving into the portrayal of the native peoples in this book and providing some discussion of the political and historical situation. I'd particularly like to read some opinions on the scene where Laura becomes enchanted by an Indian baby with "hair . . . as black as a crow and its eyes . . . black as a night when no stars shine" and demands that Pa "get [her] that little Indian baby!" as well as on the fact that Pa's sense of morality when it comes to usurping the Indian land seems to stem directly from what the government says is okay. If Washington says the Indian Territory is open to the settlers then he's going to have his land and the Indians can go lump it. If they say not, then he'll move on. That the Indians are obviously living on the land and that they were clearly there first seems not to enter into it for him.

Pa, in fact (and to a somewhat lesser extent, Ma), has become one of the most interesting aspects of these books for me on these rereads. How does he know how to make a life on the prairie anyway? That he should be a competent frontiersman generally can be taken as a given since when we first meet him in Big Woods he's already been making a successful go at that kind of life for several years (at least). But how does he know what the specific dangers of the prairie are? And how to deal with them? As a child, I accepted Pa as the all-knowing performer of crafty miracles and protector of home and family (I knew men like that myself, after all), but as an adult I begin to want to see him as a real person and to question him and to suspect that sometimes his pioneer spirit endangers his family (a number of minor catastrophes in Prairie, which are presented as things from which Pa saves the day, are actually his fault). The question of what children know and what adults know and keep from the children, I think, is a central theme in this book, and one which probably sails right over the head of children readers (except for the few times when it is made explicit as part of the action). I count six instances in Prairie when the whole family is a hair's breadth away from a horrible death, and much of what is interesting to me here (beyond the details of the day-to-day business of staying alive, which is always fascinating) is how these two adults try to--and mostly succeed at--giving their children a happy life which is free from fear and dread. show less

I had watched an author of Laura Ingalls Wilder recently discuss her biography, and I also learned that the prize for children's literature has recently dropped reference to Laura Ingalls Wilder because she is writing as a product of her time. So when I finished "Big Woods" I eagerly jumped into "House on the Prairie" to see if this book also stood the test of time.

In a lot of ways, it does: Pa and Ma are able to navigate across the prairie to a part where there is accessible water, Pa shows a neighbor why a candle lowered into a well that you're digging is a good thing, and Laura watches all of the meadowlarks and sage grouse and is enchanted by the nature and the sky around her. Mr. Edwards and his song "Ol' Dan Tucker" were running show more through my head thanks to a recording by Bruce Springsteen.

But yes, there are the problematic parts: where is the prairie grass and where are the meadowlarks now? Tilling up the stiff roots to plant potatoes and peas is exactly what led to the Dustbowl, something not foreseen (or ignored) in 1870. And then there are the discussions about the Indians. I remembered the visits from the two Indian warriors to the little house, and admonishments to "wear your sunbonnets, girls, or else . . . " but those were the kinder ones. Yep, I know that Laura was recording a time period, and reading her descriptions and overheard conversations between adults does definitely show how far we've come (and how far we have to go). As a result, the beauty is outweighed by the attitudes and I have to give it this low rating. show less

First sentence: A long time ago, when all the grandfathers and grandmothers of today were little boys and little girls or very small babies, or perhaps not even born, Pa and Ma and Mary and Laura and Baby Carrie left their little house in the Big Woods of Wisconsin. They drove away and left it lonely and empty in the clearing among the big trees, and they never saw that little house again. They were going to the Indian country.

Premise/plot: Laura Ingalls travels with her family to Indian Territory [aka Kansas], but alas the family must move again by the end of the novel when the government forces them out.

My thoughts: Though Little House on the Prairie is the name of the television show and seems to represent the "brand" of the show more "Little House" books because of that, this one--Little House on the Prairie--is not my favorite or best. I'm not sure if it's because the plot is ultimately pointless OR if it's because the content is the most problematic of the whole series. Perhaps a bit of both.

First, I don't hate Little House on the Prairie--this specific book, the series as a whole, or the television series. I am NOT part of the cancel culture that has arisen surrounding this author and series.

Second, NEWSFLASH, Laura Ingalls Wilder is recalling and chronicling a mindset from sixty to seventy years prior. It was not her job as an author in 1935 to course-correct the "Manifest Destiny" mindset. The "go west, young man" philosophy that would colonize the entirety of the United States--from "sea to shining sea." NEWSFLASH if you were a pioneer settling in the WEST chances are you felt entitled and 'in the right' to settle and 'claim' your property with the government.

Third, while the book has half-a-dozen (perhaps a few more) scenes that are problematic, the scenes could have been worse. That's not to justify anything. It's not. (The scenes that are there are cringe at best and extremely offensive at worst.) Laura and Pa seem more curious than hateful. That is not justification. Again, that's not my goal. It would be an uphill battle that is ultimately doomed. The fact that Laura is so curious and interested is in part because of her innocence (a small part) and a larger part in that she views the Indians as "other." She is a product of her upbringing. But she would not have been alone. It wasn't that the Ingalls were above and beyond the ultimate propagators of this mindset. They were just one of many. It is a whole culture that contemporary readers are at war with. I think the books and author are often the target. People seem to single her out as if she is solely to blame.
Fourth, Laura usually depicts Pa as practically perfect in every way. She idealizes him in her books. This one is no different. I, as a reader, don't see Pa as perfect. I see his MUST GO WEST AT ALL COSTS and drag my family around and make their lives as difficult as humanly possible philosophy off-putting. Life can be hard no matter where you live. But Pa's "the grass is always greener on the other side" wanderlust is annoying. show less

I was hesitant to reread Little House on the Prairie as an adult, because it was one of only a few books that I read multiple times as a child. It held up well, and I'm glad of it. There some excellent overtones going on here that I entirely missed as a child -- her father and his peers on the prairie as grifters, the selfishness of settling in Indian Territory before it was even legal, how scared her adults must have regularly been and how they still made space for safety and childhood, and little details and turns of phrase, like how Grandma kissed Baby Carrie as they left town for the last time. Clearly this book is a classic for a reason.

What a change of scenery from the previous book with the Ingalls family, from the woods of Wisconsin to the wide-open prairie. I don't recall reading the reason for the move, and while I can imagine that Laura never knew the reason as a child, I wonder if she learned it later in life. I suppose it might be due to the woods becoming overcrowded, since, as they're building their house, Pa says that he'd be content to stay there the rest of his life, even as the area gets more settled, because the area is so wide open, it could never feel crowded. Considering what happens here, it seems a shame that he wasn't content where he was, but I suppose that's a mindset most of us these days can't fully understand (though I know some people who show more would).

The story continues to be charming, and while there are some unfortunate mindsets that I wish would not have been so common in that day, I appreciate that Pa mostly has a different attitude. My daughter has recently started reading the first book in the series, and I don't know if she'll continue to this one, but if she does, I'll be intrigued to hear her thoughts on the matter.

As before, my enjoyment of the book was greatly enhanced by the audiobook narrator, Cherry Jones, who does a fantastic job, and being able to hear Pa's fiddle, thanks to Paul Woodiel. If you've ever considered reading this series, or have already read it and have occasion to listen to the audiobooks, I say do it! show less

Like many others, I first read this as a kid. I checked out the paperback version and eagerly remarked to the librarian, "I'm rereading this as an adult." She nodded. "I used to read these as a kid," she agreed. This...is written a style that children will enjoy. The writing is absorbing and yet restrictive in its amount of detail.

This is a book about cruelty to dogs. It's also super racist, and it's not so accurate. The book is stated to take place in the 1890s. People had been traveling in covered wagons long before that. 1847 in particular. People traveled alongside their wagons, which were jammed with their whole life's belongings. Children who were under the age of five stayed in the wagon, or if they were ill. Dogs walked show more alongside the humans, if the family took dogs with them. Or unless they were small dogs, again, in the wagon. There is little mention of illnesses, dirty water, and hardly any of mosquito bites. Ma conveniently sprains her foot when a log falls on it. Give me a break. I almost stopped reading then and there. But it healed super quick with only pretty bruising. No mention of stretches, no mention of her slowing down in any real way. Her foot would more likely be broken. Orrr maybe she was just super lucky. The way this was written, the author did not want any real hardship to come to her characters. This annoyed me as an adult.

There is just--an utter lack of knowledge in these books about how historical events and people really functioned, and what mattered to them. It came across as ignorance, not "I'm omitting stuff for the story." It wasn't "if I have them in the wagon, and they have a dog, this story will be more interesting." I understand that these books were based off of Ingalls' grandmother's journals, likely when she was a child. She was looking through the world from a child's eyes. Still, everything's so--sanitized.

Jack is stated to be a brindle bulldog. Pretty! I like bulldogs, so I warmed immediately. He is also pointless as a character. In the first book, he's barely mentioned. The family could have found him in the third book and nothing of note would be lost in the whole series overall. They make the dog walk under the wagon, a punishing distance. There is no mention of food or water for him until the family is already in the house really. Laura is worried about him, and her mother says "Jack can swim." Across an enormous lake. No. Realistically, he would be dead of heat stroke, starvation, drowning, or just plain run away. If he were a Newfoundland, I would be more forgiving. Or even a Jack Russell terrier--we had one and she calmly climbed a mountain and wasn't even tired. She slept well later that night. We gave her plenty of water on the hike, and even urged her to drink some when she was not thirsty. An English bulldog would be -unlikely- to hold up to all that.

AND THEN PA AIMS A GUN AT HIM.
It took all I had not to drop the book in disgust right then and there. AND THE BOOK KEEPS GOING. OH, HE'S FORGIVING? OH WOW. PLOT CONTRIVANCE. ANIMAL MISTREATMENT, I SAY. He spends the second half of the book chained up inside, repeatedly made to stay inside--did the family never fashion a leash out of cloth? They hardly played with this dog. He deserves a far more adoring family. I was more attached to a fictional dog in this book than I was the humans. I cared about them less and less. The racism was at first threaded through the book, then utterly blatant and pages upon pages in the second half of the book. It aged POORLY.

I know it's going to be recommended for a long, long time. It's a staple of many a childhood. I am not one of the people who will be doing that. show less