Freedom? The Civil War has just ended, and Mosa, the main character and ex-slave from David’s first book in the series “The Throwback” has been given tFreedom? The Civil War has just ended, and Mosa, the main character and ex-slave from David’s first book in the series “The Throwback” has been given the deed to the plantation. It has been decided though, that it should be divided amongst the 8 family members who had worked it all their lives. Then they begin to make more changes, but the white banker and other white men in the community have other ideas.
I never trust sequels for they usually lack what the first book had given to the reader. This didn’t happen, for the book was as exciting as the first one. The Black characters are wonderful, and well, what can I say about the white save owners that hasn’t been said before? The Blacks did not get the freedom as was promised to them. So Mosa left the plantation and began her adventures traveling to other cities to find work. Perhaps, I think, it was better to have left the plantation and have more experiences in life, but well, no, for the ex-slaves that stayed were turned into sharecroppers, the white man’s way of keeping them in bondage. I think Mosa faired better, but for the Black in generals, life was always a struggle and it continues to this very day.
Frederick Douglas wrote that he believed we could have another Civil War unless the U.S. united, but today we are more ununited as ever. We can’t even get together to fight Covid-19.
I also like how David’s books are hard to put down. I find that there is never a dull moment when reading them. How he does it, I do not know.
David Canford has been my friend for years on GR, exchanging Likes. And not once has he ever asked me to read any of his books. I kept tryiA Whirlwind
David Canford has been my friend for years on GR, exchanging Likes. And not once has he ever asked me to read any of his books. I kept trying different books, but I could not get into them. Then I happened on David’s page. I saw this book, so I thought to check it out a Civil War novel. I love Civil War novels, and I bet David knew this, but he never said a word. I appreciate that.
So, I bought this book and began reading it. I could not put it down and will read its sequel. After reding “Gone with the Wind” and hating it because of its racism and boring story with horrible characters, I had wished that someone had written a book that was anti-racist. Well, that is what David did.
The book begins with a family who owns a plantation, and the lady of the house was pregnant with child. When she had the baby, her husband took one look at Its brown skin, and it had to go. He gave it to one of the Black slaves, Maisy, and said, “Take it to the river and drown it.” He soon dealt with his wife. Well, the baby, Mosa, survived, and she is the throwback. The rest of the story is a whirlwind of events, the reason why I could ;not put it down....more
She wrote abut him in a book, and a child that she had rescued found it and recognized himself. He alone had survived all thA Sweeping Civil War Story
She wrote abut him in a book, and a child that she had rescued found it and recognized himself. He alone had survived all these years.
The story begins on a sad note: a five-year old boy was seen lying dead on the ground, having fallen from the balcony where he had been plaing. The young black boy, James, age six stood nearby. That is the most that James recalls of his life outside of his seeing himself running through the house, the wind blowing the curtains, the dead boy now on the bed. People weeping.
Varina found James on the street, a black woman beating him. She got out of the carriage and grabbed him, the black woman saying, “He is not my boy. He is a beggar.” Why did she take the boy? It was because he needed caring for, that is all. He was only a two- year old. Not that any age is permissible. He said that his name was Jimmy, later to be called James.
It was James who in his later years found Varina and asked her, “Who am I?” For he had found a blue book, the story of part of Varina’s life, the story of her losing her 5-year old boy, the boy who had fallen from the balcony. And in time, she told him all.
Varina had had many loses since then, children, even the loss of James. She had married Jefferson Davis, the first and only president of the Confederates. A man who was hunted when the war was over, hunted along with Varina.
Varina’s life unfolds as Charles Frazier tells the story, a story with his most beautiful lyrical prose, but I found the story, itself, dry, except when she took her children with her to escape to Havana after the war. For me, sometimes the most beautiful words can not make a story that will keep my attention.
I thought of “Cold Mountain” and believed that Frazier had put his heart into that story, almost as if it were his own, that he had lived that life himself. He is, at best, a romantic. I thought of how he had chosen to write about Varina, a woman whose name had three syllables, just as Henry Webster in 1856 had said that he needed three syllables for his song, “Lorena,” which song became a famous Civile War song, and which song Frazier had mentioned in “Cold Mountain.” Did Frazier choose this to use this 3 syllable name on purpose or was it just my wish that he had used it because he had thought of “Lorena?”. The words of the song are as beautiful as Frazier’s. If he were to tell me that he had lived Henry’s life, I would believe him. But most of all, I wish that he would write Henry’s story, because only he could, and in doing so, his heart would once again be fully present while writing the book....more
Andersonville, Georgia Civil War 1864. Confederate prison
A man, dead, lying face up A large hole in his head Maggots everywhere
That scene in tThe Diarist
Andersonville, Georgia Civil War 1864. Confederate prison
A man, dead, lying face up A large hole in his head Maggots everywhere
That scene in the book just won’t let me go, and there are other scenes just as horrible. Andersonville prison may have been the worse prison camp in America. It was somewhat like Auschwitz, but then, there was nothing like Auschwitz, and I hope that there will never be one again.
There is no end to man’s inhumanity to man.
Men died from dropsy Scurvy and dysentery Mostly starvation
Men died to get out of prison. They just walked over the line, so they could be shot. It was called suicide. The conditions in camp were so horrible that the camped smell was so overwhelming, that even the Rebel guards stayed as far away as they could. The prisoners dug tunnels to escape but were often caught and punished, as if prison wasn’t punishment enough. Whenever a few escaped, it had not been in vain for at least they got a breath of fresh air; the scent of freedom.
This account came from the diary of the prisoner, John Ransom. He had filled three books that he had carried out with him, but the original is now gone. I don’t know what had happened to him after his release. I wish I knew as he was a fine man, kind to all.
The diarist wrote: 50 died each day. Months later it came up to 80, then 160. Towards the end when men were brought into the camp, the conditions were so deplorable that they died much earlier than the others had. He had been there a year or more and was just hanging on.
Few shoes and clothing Blankets coveted Corpses were robbed
The naked bodies were laid in a pile. Once a day a wagon would come into the camp, and the Rebels laid them in it like they were logs from trees. Then they drove out the gate and dumped them in a trench, covering it with dirt.
Cold moldy cornbread A handful of sour beans Meat a luxury
One man chewed on a bone for days on end.
The diarist came down with scurvy and dropsy in his last months at the camp. When they came to take the men to the Confederate hospital, some men hid him in the middle of the crowd and almost carried him out. Only the healthy were allowed to go. The men left behind died shortly thereafter. It was there, in this hospital, that humanity thrived
The best part of this book were the times that the diarist had escaped, for the black slaves, learning that he was a Yankee, helped him all they could, giving him food and telling him where the Rebels were and where the best routes were located. It was like an underground railroad for Yankees. And I rejoiced when he saw that one plantation had been deserted, the owners had fled, leaving the slaves behind.
Talk of a Prisoner exchange Giving the men hope Broken. promises
The diarist wrote down the names of some of the me men who had died and even the towns where they had lived. Those still alive gave him photos of their families, and one man gave him buttons that he had made for a family member. All were to be taken to their families because they believed that they would never see them again, that he alone would survive. Then all were taken from him, but he went to visit their families and gave them his condolences.
My weary legs will Carry me no more Lying under an old oak...more
My introduction to Civil War novels was “Cold Mountain” by Charles Frazier. After reading it I kept looking for another and found Imagine No More Wars
My introduction to Civil War novels was “Cold Mountain” by Charles Frazier. After reading it I kept looking for another and found “Wilderness” by Lance Weller. Yet, neither of these books were really about the war. The first was a book about a man walking home from the war, the second was just a few flashbacks. It was the adventures in these two books that I loved, the walking away, and the walking of a man who was looking for his stolen dog. I never thought that I would actually read a book on the battle itself, but when a friend said that she was reading “The Red Badge of Courage” and that it was a Civil War novel,to t I thought to give it a try. After all, I had always heard of the book. I Just didn’t know what it was about.
The author was never in the Civil War but was born in 1871, after the war had ended, and he didn’t write this book until 1895, a few years before his death. I thought about that: Men were dying in the war at the young age of 18 or round. They never really had a life, and the author died at the age of 28 of tuberculosis. When I think of my living so far to be 77, I think that he never really had a life either.
This book was heart wrenching in so many ways. I wanted to say that this war was futile because so many young men had died, so many laid out in the fields wounded and in pain. So many felt fear in their hearts of what lay before them.
Was it futile? It felt senseless to me. I talked with my husband about this, and he explained to me how it had to be fought because the other side wasn’t going to back down. He is right. Then he said that in Nam, he had seen these words on a wall in an outhouse: “Fighting for peace is like screwing for virginity.” It stayed with him all these years, and he added that war seldom brings real peace because it leaves the losers feeling hostile.
I have always been confused about the Civil War, yes, it freed the slaves, and that was a good thing, a very good thing, but the south is still racist, and after that war they still murdered the freed slaves, they became sharecroppers and were really not free. Nor are they totally freed today. And some in the south desire to have another Civil War, and some out of stupidity still play Civil War games. Blacks are being murdered in the streets by the police, and it just goes on and on. Yet, I know that the Civil War was fought for other reasons as well.
When reading this book, I thought of the young boys being given guns, having to wear their own clothes, and having those clothes fall apart on them. I thought of their being shot and lying on the fields with no medical help. I thought of their dying and having no real life. I thought of their fear, and how some ran away, leaving them with guilt in their hearts. And in time, my mind became numb, and I hardly knew what I was reading anymore. And then I thought of what Jesus had said, if he really said it, and it is as true today as it ever was, “Forgive them Father for they know not what they do.” Last of all I thought of the antiwar songs that were sung in the 60s:
Imagine
Imagine there's no heaven It's easy if you try No hell below us Above us only sky Imagine all the people Living for today.
Imagine there's no countries It isn't hard to do Nothing to kill or die for And no religion, too Imagine all the people Living life in peace.
You may say I'm a dreamer But I'm not the only one I hope someday you'll join us And the world will be as one
Imagine no possessions I wonder if you can No need for greed or hunger A brotherhood of man Imagine all the people Sharing all the world.
You may say I'm a dreamer But I'm not the only one I hope someday you'll join us And the world will live as one
Thomas and John had met under a hedge, just taking shelter from the rain. Thomas had come from Ireland during the Potato Famine. His parents and sibliThomas and John had met under a hedge, just taking shelter from the rain. Thomas had come from Ireland during the Potato Famine. His parents and siblings had died of starvation. Leaving Ireland, he stole away on a ship headed for the Americas. I have no idea what John’s background was, only that he was from England.
And then they partnered up and joined the army and rode through the country killing Indians, men, women, and children. I am not fond of genocide and found this quite cruel. I thought of these killings, even the killing of buffalo, just to starve them. Not that Indians were all innocent, some weren’t. But they also had to fight back when they could. As far as I can tell, they were just all in the way.
And then Thomas and John obtained an Indian girl and raised her as their own. And they loved and protected her, but the War Between the States was brewing, and off they road to fight again.
And I must admit, I was quite bored with this book in spite of its beautiful lyrical prose, which I love best in books. I thought of putting it down for it felt like days without end that stretched out to eternity for me. But I wanted to know how Thomas and John were doing, so I continued on.
The Civil War had ended, the killings had all stopped. The story became more interesting. It is just that I dislike battle scenes; I disliked being there and to me these battles seem to never end.
Now they were heading somewhere, Tennessee maybe. You see, I still was not that attentive. They met up with some bad Johnny Rebs who didn’t want to accept that the war was over, and for them it wasn’t. They were very dangerous men and there was no getting around them.
And blacks were hanging from the trees in a long line, just because they were black and were free. That’s the way it always was and still is today. Nothing changes, just the time. And I thought of the lyrics to Strange Fruit by Billie Holiday:
“Southern trees bear strange fruit Blood on the leaves and blood at the root Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.”
But it was now these latter chapters when I began to like the story. It was more like Cold Mountain by Frazier and Wilderness by Weller, books that I loved. The war was over in them too, they were just walking and seeing. In one the man was going home to his woman, in the other to find his dog. You still saw the results of this war, sometimes you even saw the war, but more often you saw the dead. The killing was gone. It was like walking into the aftermath of the killings where you just sat down weeping over all that had been done, all that had been lost, both the people and the land. But maybe you don’t see much at all through all your tears and it really doesn’t matter what battle it was, or who lost and who won, that is, if you think there were winners. . It is what it is and that is all.
And the book all ends well for Thomas, and if I had read the first chapter deeply, I would have known this all along. But the guilt continues to live on to the very end of it all. It just couldn’t do otherwise....more
“I doubt if all the dark lines are erased from my heart yet.” ~~Henry Webster to a frien“If we try, we shall forget.”
~~Ella Blocksom to Henry Webster
“I doubt if all the dark lines are erased from my heart yet.” ~~Henry Webster to a friend in later years
Ella Blocksom was this sweetheart of the Civil War for she had been immortalized in the song, Lorena. This song was published in 1858, becoming an instant hit and had continued in its popularity during the Civil War, being sung by soldiers on both sides. One Confederate officer claimed that this song caused them to lose the war because so many men had deserted, going home to their wives or girl friends, to their own Lorenas after hearing this mournful song that caused them to become homesick. And if they hadn’t deserted, the song caused many to lose their effectiveness in fighting. Some officers banned this song from being sung by their troops in order to keep men from deserting, to keep them fighting. Then when the war had ended the name Lorena became a very popular girl’s name as many surviving men named their baby girls Lorena.
The song was written in 1856 by Henry Webster, after meeting the composer Joseph Webster. Joseph had written a piece of music that needed lyrics, so Henry wrote his poem about Ella in less than two days, a poem of their love for each other and their parting. In his poem he had added what she had written in her last letter to him, “If we try, we shall forget.” Henry had first titled his poem Bertha in order to protect Ella’s identity, but then Joseph had needed a three syllable title, so Henry created a new girl’s name, Lorena, adapted from the name Lenore in Edgar Allan Poe’s poem, The Raven.
The Courting of Ella:
Being orphaned, Ella moved in with her sister and brother-in-law. They were members of the Universalist Church in their home in Zaneville, Ohio. In 1849 Henry Webster had become the new minister of their church. At his time Ella was a young beautiful 19 year old woman and Henry was 25 years old. He noticed her and began walking her home from choir practice and then began accompanying her to other church activities. His courting took them on long romantic walks to the top of a nearby hill where they watched the sunset and dreamed dreams. Being poetic he may have won her heart with his beautiful prose or just his charm. It wasn’t long before they became engaged and had begun planning their own wedding.
Ella’s sister and brother-in-law had hoped that they would lose interest in each other and when they hadn’t, her brother-in-law stepped in and told Ella that they would disown her if she didn’t break off with Henry. After all, he was a poor minister and not from a wealthy prominent family.
Ella gave in to their wishes and took one last walk up the hill with Henry. Handing him back her engagement ring, they slowly walked down the hill just as the sun was setting, and in the distance the church bells rang.
After their breakup Henry resigned as the minister of her church and left to become a minister in another town. He had only been in Zanesville for one year. When Ella heard the song years later she knew that it had been written about her; it had not been disguised well enough. It is claimed that she was not happy about it, probably because by now she was married to a prominent lawyer who later became the justice of the Superior Court of Ohio, just as her sister (or father) had wished. Did the song bring back too many memories? Was she happy in her marriage? We don’t know her true feelings, but we do know Henry’s feelings at that time for while he was in his second marriage, he confessed to a friend in a letter: “I doubt if all the dark lines are erased from my heart yet. It has been 161 years since this song had been published, and even after this long it is still being sung and used in movies as background music, although it is not as popular as it once had been.
I listened to the song being sung just over a week or two ago, and I only remembered its tune. If I had heard it in my youth, I would have learned all the words to it because I used to love to sing. And I know that I would have also been forcing back my own tears, as I am still deeply moved by sad love songs. Lorena The years creep slowly by, Lorena The snow is on the grass again The sun's low down the sky, Lorena The frost gleams where the flowers have been But my heart beats on as warmly now As when the summer days were nigh The sun can never dip so low Or down affections cloudless sky
A hundred months have passed, Lorena Since last I held that hand in mine And felt the pulse beat fast, Lorena Though mine beat faster far than thine A hundred months, 'twas flowery May When up the hilly slope we climbed To watch the dying of the day And hear the distant church bells chime
We loved each other then, Lorena More than we ever dared to tell And what we might have been, Lorena Had but our loving prospered well But then, 'tis past, the years are gone I'll not call up their shadowy form I'll say to them, "lost years, sleep on"
Sleep on, nor heed life's pelting storms The story of that past, Lorena Alas! I care not to repeat The hopes that could not last, Lorena They lived, but only lived to cheat I would not cause them one regret To rankle in your bosom now For "If we try, we may forget" Were words of thine long years ago
Yes, these were words of thine, Lorena They burn within my memory yet They touched some tender chords, Lorena Which thrill and tremble with regret 'Twas not thy woman's heart that spoke Thy heart was always true to me A duty, stern and pressing, broke The tie which linked my soul with thee
It matters little now, Lorena The past is in the eternal past Our heads will soon lie low, Lorena Life's tide is ebbing out so fast There is a future! O, thank God Of life this is so small a part 'Tis dust to dust beneath the sod But there, up there, 'tis heart to heart
[image] Ella Blocksom
Notes: From the book, History of Lorena, published in 1916: “The author of ""Lorena"" Rev. Henry de Lafayette Webster, was born in Oneida County, N.Y. in 1824, and died in Chicago on Nov. 3, 1896, have lived to the age of 72 years.” “Mrs. Judge William W. Johnson, formerly Miss Ella Blocksom, and the original ""Lorena"" is still living (Nov. 1916), at Marietta, Ohio, well on to ninety years of age. She has been totally blind for years. She is the widow of the late Judge W.W. Johnson, at one time a member of the Supreme Court of Ohio.” She died a year later....more
All that night the aurora flamed and shimmered lurid colors across the sky to the north. Such a rare event was seen as an omen tA Lyrical Masterpiece“
All that night the aurora flamed and shimmered lurid colors across the sky to the north. Such a rare event was seen as an omen to the men up and down the line, and they vied to see who could most convincedly render its meaning sown into plain speech. Somewhere above them on the hill, a fiddle struck up the sad cords of Lorena…”
Inman was in the battle at Fredericksburg when he was wounded and sent to the hospital for recovery, to then return to battle. The above quote was taken from this battle, and I could nott help but recall the words to this melancholy song, a song that men in the Civil War sang, causing many to dissert, to try to travel home to their loved ones. It was finally banned by many officers for this very reason. Was the fiddler’s playing of this song meant to demoralize the enemy? I think so, and I believe it led up to the theme of this book, Inman’s desertion.
Henry Webster, a Unitarian minister, had written this song, “Lorena” after his beloved Ellafff had left him. Like Inman, he had met his own beloved at church. Henry never got over her. The tune of this song, combined with its lyrics, are both beautiful and heart wrenching. You can read their story in the book, “The Sweetheart of the Civil War.”
Lorena
“The years creep slowly by, Lorena The snow is on the grass a gain The sun's low down the sky, Lorena The frost gleams where the flowers have been But my heart beats on as warmly now As when the summer days were nigh…”
Inman wrote a letter to his beloved Ada while he was in the hospital, telling her that he would be returning to her. Then, one day, he just walked out of the hospital and began walking to Cold Mountain, to Ada.
Ada had also written to him, missing him, hoping for his safe return. She was now alone; her last family member, her father, had died. Her neighbor’s, but few, were helpful. By this time, she had little to eat and did not know how to farm or care for the animals, animals that were not raised for food but for pleasure. Her family had been somewhat wealthy but now the money was gone, and she had only been taught to read and to play the piano. She did not even know how to cook, yet, she was a fine person, not really spoiled in the true sense of the word. Then a woman named Ruby came to help, to teach her how to take care of the farm.
Note: I read this book many years ago and loved it then, even saw the movie, but I never thought to read it again; instead, I looked for others like it. As you see, I changed my mind. I even bought the audio which I found to be wonderfully narrated by a man who knows how to read this lyrical book. Then I learned that that man was Charles Frazier, the author. He speaks as well as he writes. Like the song “Lorena’ and its tune, there is nothing more beautiful than Frazier reading his poetic book.
As I said, I spent years trying to find a book like this one, reading other Civil War novels, but I found nothing, that is, until I read “Wilderness” by Lance Weller, another lyrical writer. He wrote a post-Civil War novel, one with flash backs of the War. So, the man in his book was not walking away from the war; his walk was to find his stolen dog. Yet, I know that I will always be looking for another “Cold Mountain” even though “Wilderness” had been one for me. And I know that I will read this book again....more
He sits at his desk writing by candle light, a fire burning in the fireplace. He writes of darkness, of days when there was no sunlighA Civil War Ride
He sits at his desk writing by candle light, a fire burning in the fireplace. He writes of darkness, of days when there was no sunlight, and the picture he paints is so dark that the coal black horse disappears into it, but you know that he is always there. Waiting. Running. Escaping.
He writes about a boy's mother and his father. His father is off in the civil war and wounded, but he doesn't know this just yet. He doesn't know a lot of things, things he has never seen but will see and try to forget. His mother says, just ride; please find him. Bring him home.
Riding on the coal black horse though the darkness, he thinks of Ichabald Crane, of the headless horseman, and he is frightened. He knows where he is going, and yet the road that he is following leads him further into that darkness to places he cannot escape.
He is now in a house where a family was murdered, a doll on the floor, a women dead in the upstairs bedroom. People are coming inside, a man, a woman, and a young girl. They have a meal, and then the blind woman sleeps while the girl is being harmed. The boy watches in fear and waits and then silently slips out the door, but the girl knows that he was there and was not moved by her terror; he did not help. This she never forgets.
The writer sits at his desk and weeps for what he has just written, and he thinks of writing it out but he doesn't. He must tell what once had happened, but even he doesn't know until he once again puts his pen on the paper and writes, writes of things that he somehow knew long ago.
The boy watches the battles and hides. He hears the soldiers' cries and the horses' screams. Broken bodies, torn off limbs. Again he does nothing; he doesn't know how. The scavengers come to steal possessions from the dead, to torture the dying who are suffering, suffering now for days. The medical students come to take the bodies, to even boil the flesh off the bones on this christened land.
And when the writer is done with his story, he looks up, and I see the fire light reflected in his eyes, and I am frightened for all the truth that he has written and because it could happen again. This is the war that men see and cannot forget. I walk out of the house and onto the porch into the sunlight. This the most light that I have seen in days....more
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