![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lightreadsAt the Back of the North Wind
1/5. 1870’s children’s christian fiction about the son of a coachman who makes friends with the north wind.
It would be reasonable to ask why I read 1870’s children’s christian fiction. The answer is that I read this as a child, but remembered nothing about it other than the title and the sound of the narrator’s voice saying it. I recently found the digitized version of that old cassette audiobook (thank you, National Library Service – in general, I mean, not for this in particular) and I got curious.
Woof, I am allergic to this book. Its preaching, its sanctimony, its moralism. On the one hand, it could be worse. The author was a christian-socialist who was definitely not wrong that, say, drinking and smacking your wife around is bad. His opinions were apparently very unpopular at the time. But it doesn’t ultimately matter what stripe of preaching this is when you are allergic to the whole project. Philosophically, I mean. The thematic statement of this book is, as one character says, “kindness is but justice,” and bleh, fuck right off with that. It’s a view of the world and who gets what and who deserves what that I violently disagree with.
Also, not for nothing, I said “are you fucking joking” out loud when I realized where this book was going. I’m pretty sure I don’t remember this book well because I didn’t understand or like it as a child. I do remember his Princess and the Goblin, which I think I reread quite a bit, but I think I’m good now. The offensive ending, by the way, is literally that our protagonist dies abruptly so that he can return to the back of the north wind/heaven.
I think I would be less annoyed by this if it didn’t have these flickers of good fantasy in it. Something wild and creative and extremely weird. But whenever he started down that road he would pull abruptly back and suddenly re-christian everything.
Content notes: *gestures upward*
1/5. 1870’s children’s christian fiction about the son of a coachman who makes friends with the north wind.
It would be reasonable to ask why I read 1870’s children’s christian fiction. The answer is that I read this as a child, but remembered nothing about it other than the title and the sound of the narrator’s voice saying it. I recently found the digitized version of that old cassette audiobook (thank you, National Library Service – in general, I mean, not for this in particular) and I got curious.
Woof, I am allergic to this book. Its preaching, its sanctimony, its moralism. On the one hand, it could be worse. The author was a christian-socialist who was definitely not wrong that, say, drinking and smacking your wife around is bad. His opinions were apparently very unpopular at the time. But it doesn’t ultimately matter what stripe of preaching this is when you are allergic to the whole project. Philosophically, I mean. The thematic statement of this book is, as one character says, “kindness is but justice,” and bleh, fuck right off with that. It’s a view of the world and who gets what and who deserves what that I violently disagree with.
Also, not for nothing, I said “are you fucking joking” out loud when I realized where this book was going. I’m pretty sure I don’t remember this book well because I didn’t understand or like it as a child. I do remember his Princess and the Goblin, which I think I reread quite a bit, but I think I’m good now. The offensive ending, by the way, is literally that our protagonist dies abruptly so that he can return to the back of the north wind/heaven.
I think I would be less annoyed by this if it didn’t have these flickers of good fantasy in it. Something wild and creative and extremely weird. But whenever he started down that road he would pull abruptly back and suddenly re-christian everything.
Content notes: *gestures upward*