Reviews for The Prairie

The average rating for The Prairie based on 2 reviews is 2.5 stars.

Review # 1 was written on 2016-04-18 00:00:00 Nicholas Steele Taking place in the then trackless expanses of the Louisiana Purchase territory, somewhere about 500 miles west of the Mississippi, in 1805, this novel is actually set in Cooper's own lifetime, as was The Pioneers. (In 1805, the author would have been in his teens.) I've classified it, somewhat loosely and inaccurately, as "historical fiction" in order to keep the series together on my shelves. At the opening of the book, series protagonist Natty Bumpo is now 87 years old, frailer and less keen eyed than he used to be, and reduced to trapping rather than hunting. He's still independent and self-reliant, though, and has come out onto the Great Plains, forsaking his beloved forests, to escape the inroads and depredations of dubiously-"civilized" settlement. But his tranquil solitude, which already has to be shared with not-necessarily-friendly Indians, is rudely disturbed at the outset by the arrival in his neighborhood of Ishmael Bush and his redneck clan, driven out of Kentucky for squatting on land to which they had no claim, and looking for more land where they can do the same. Other newcomers follow in their train, setting up a tale that involves kidnapping, murder, Indian warfare, and some chaste romance. Published in 1827, this novel has more affinity, stylistically and in terms of craftsmanship, with other early Cooper works, especially The Last of the Mohicans, than with the more mature works of the early 1840s, The Deerslayer and The Pathfinder. It's not as polished, and the tendency towards dialogue that's unrealistically ornate and wordy, which is so marked in The Last of the Mohicans, is really noticeable here too. (Though again, as in the latter book, the character with the most ridiculously pompous dialogue is intended as comic relief; would-be naturalist Obed Bat --okay, we'll humor him and say "Dr. Battius," though his doctorate is most likely self-awarded!-- functions here like his predecessor David Gamut.) Likewise, there are plotting problems: the motivation for one key plot contrivance is unclear, and maybe dubious; the logistics of Paul Hover's wild honey trade, in this situation, don't ring true; and Capt. Duncan Uncas Middleton (grandson of Duncan Heyward!) would probably not have been permitted by his superiors to have left his command and taken some men to chase off into the prairies, regardless of his personal incentive. Coincidence is used implausibly in a couple of places; and I felt that some of Ellen Wades' actions were out of character or contradictory. (It's true that many real-life people in this era, unlike today, actually took giving their word or swearing an oath seriously, even if it subsequently proved inconvenient; and there are other 19th-century novels that also extol this --correctly, IMO!-- as a virtue. But I don't think a commitment exacted forcibly has the same moral status, especially if it's against the interests of an innocent.) A few of the characterizations are not particularly sharp (though some of them are, not least Natty's). That said, though, I still liked the novel. Cooper's literary vision, here and in the other novels of the series, is very much of a piece. The storytelling is vivid, full of incident, and in many places genuinely suspenseful. (Exciting action is one of the author's strengths.) He deserves credit here for a portrayal of Native Americans which is realistic and balanced, not a racist hatchet job; their warlike attitudes and sometimes grisly accompanying behaviors, male chauvinism and use of duplicity as an (in their view) legitimate tactic of war are recognized, but so are the more laudable aspects of their culture, and individuals of the race display the full gamut of moral possibilities, from contemptible to very admirable. (We also have, in the person of Inez, a Roman Catholic character who's sympathetic rather than demonized; and while Cooper is himself clearly a Protestant, he doesn't treat Catholicism invidiously, in the way that many Protestants in the much less ecumenical 1820s undoubtedly would have.) For much of the novel, I was inclined to fault him for having some characters know something they apparently couldn't have; but this is actually not the case, as is explained to good effect near the end. Finally, there are some scenes here that are extremely moving, in one way or another, ranking in emotional power among the author's best.

Review # 2 was written on 2011-08-28 00:00:00 John Filla Analyze the shit outta any of these classics & you're bound to discover the golden nugget that someone somewhere sometime once found and classified as such. Not the case with this, the last of the Leatherstocking tales. It's not for modern readers. At all. Campfire philosophy is perhaps the least interesting aspect of this tale (the opposite case of, say, the superlative "Lonesome Dove") which is about 200 years old… & by setting all players on leveled, even ground (Shakespeare's plays are often quoted), insipid insights are often found in the form of stagnant, pedantic, unrealistic dialogue. While the actions of all the characters seem to occur in slow motion, dialogue is also the device used to slow down the pace of the narrative. The emigrants meet up with the over-the-hill character (Natty Bumppo, alias "the trapper") from The Last of the Mohicans and they unite to stand against the Tetons. Natty Bumppo then becomes part of the human drama he has so evidently avoided in the past, paralleling his distaste for the sound of ax chopping wood. Does Fenimore Cooper say that woods-people, deer slayers, trappers, hunters, all easily assimilate to newly forming societies? Is it really that easy to speak to your own skin-type, when there's absolutely nobody else around? There is a pervasive type of hesitation throughout the tale, in the manner the characters expose themselves, in the way the narrative is overabundant with words and extraneously extended descriptions. I loathed having to read it for class, spending time with it was as futile as, gasp, having to spend time with anything by the likes of Ayn Rand. Inviting headaches, it's an infuriating experience. Droll & dull.