"the utter loneliness of a forest is not so difficult to endure as the loneliness of being surrounded by crowds of people who do not care..."

Hello everybody!

Now I think I'll get back to that topic that I was going to write about when I got horribly sidetracked by Wally Meadows... books nobody reads! Or at least books that nobody I know has read. Except me, of course.

Soooo, today we have Freckles by Gene Stratton Porter! I first encountered this book in my favourite part of Hurstville library (the classics for kids section), when I was going through my 'oh-my-gosh-Little-Women-was-marvellous-must-read-every-other-Louisa-May-Alcott-book!' phase.

Freckles, which was written in 1904 by an American woman, is simply jam-packed full of cliches and drips with sentimental feeling in every line. And I still love it!
It's a story about a young red-head man, found at a Chicago orphanage as a baby (somehow he manages to develop a heavy Irish accent during his stay there. Oh, and he's missing a hand), who goes to seek his fortune and earn his way as a timber guard in 'the Limberlost', which is, of course, a large, spooky, pretty forest, overflowing with fascinating fauna. He wins the heart of his employer - who eventually seeks to adopt him as a son - outwits timber thieves, learns a lot about the local wildlife, and falls deeply in love with an overly beautiful rich girl. The book ends with him being reunited with rich parents who lost him as a baby to a jealous nurse.

Despite all the description of her physically and personally, Freckles's love interest the 'Swamp Angel' (and we never find out her real name) is extremely two-dimensional. Maybe she's too pretty or something - but even though she's even given a scene in which she shoots like a pro the girl just doesn't convince me. I'll give you the description of her so you get an idea, it almost reads like a parody:

'Parting the wild roses at the entrance was beauty of which Freckles never had dreamed. Was it real or would it vanish as the other dreams? He dropped his book, and rising to his feet, went a step closer, gazing intently. This was real flesh and blood. It was in every way akin to the Limberlost, for no bird of its branches swung with easier grace than this dainty young thing rocked on the bit of morass on which she stood. A sapling beside her was not straighter or tounder than her slender form. Her soft, waving hair clung around her face from the heat, and curled over her shoulders. It was all of one piece with the gold of the sun that filtered between the branches. Her eyes were the deepest blue of the iris, her lips the reddest red of the foxfire, and her cheeks exactly of the same satin as the wild rose petals caressing them."

Hmmm. Freckles somehow escapes Mary-Sueism (or maybe he doesn't; your mileage may vary) but he isn't on my list because he's just toooo good.

His awesome Irish accent and intense chivalry appeal though.