I Think I'm My Own Grandma, But I'm Not Sure
The Songcatcher by Sharyn McCrumb
The Songcatcher by Sharyn McCrumb is about the people of the southern Appalachian mountains — Virginia and North Carolina mostly. Since my family hails from that area, I wanted to read this book. I'm always curious to see how other "cosmic possums" (those born outside the area to parents of the high country) "see" this land and people. Frankly, the Appalachian mountain area is about as foreign to the general population of the U.S. as countries I've traveled overseas. It's hard to capture the differentness on paper, and I've found very few writers who do the area justice.
McCrumb builds her story on the history of her family. In researching for her various novels, she came across many fascinating "relative stories." Those generally come down word-to-mouth and often in songs. Reading and writing did not count for much when you needed to work the land and scratch out enough to get by on. Even today, education is not seen as the ticket to success in the mountains that it's generally considered throughout the country. When I lived in the mountains right after college, I stopped putting my degree down on the applications. Got a job the second time out with that piece of info factored out.
The "river running through" this book is an old ballad from Scotland. In fact, it was written by the author, but it is in the style of the old ballads passed down and then written down by the "songcatchers" who made the money on the story songs of the hill people. In some ways, it is a pity that city scholars converged on the hills and stole the songs, copyrighted them, and made a few bucks, but the ballads do live on when they might have been lost for all time. My great-grandfather penned a song so similar to House of the Rising Sun that the family must wonder how that one came to be a 60s hit under another writer's name.
In this story, Malcolm McCourry is kidnapped as a child when out wandering the beach in Scotland. He has a magic stone in his pocket to save him from his fate of dying by water as predicted by an old woman of vision. The old woman provided the stone but also the curse that all McCourry firstborns would be less loved than children following. The Scottish child becomes a seaman and carries his rock and his song from home — protected but damned for generations to come.
Flash-forward to current times, and Lark McCourry is headed home to the deathbed of her father, John. The blood is bad between John and his first and only born — Linda. Linda went off to the city and became a country-folk star renamed Lark for publicity purposes. She has been replaced by the housekeeper, Becky (stand-in second born), who caters to the old man and does not challenge his world as daughter Lark tends to do.
The two plotlines and all the in-between years in this generational drama are stitched together like bits and pieces in a mountain crazy quilt. The shifts are so dramatic that I often wondered if I was reading several books at one time and not really following any of them. This would probably be best read in one sitting, but it's complex with many storylines and a whole boatload of characters. I can't manage to carve out the time to read this one from start to finish, and I doubt many readers could.
In terms of the writing, the feel is simply lyrical. I could sink right into this book like a well-worn couch on the porch. I would be soaking up the story, and then...BAM. Suddenly, I was in another time and place. That would catch me off guard. Then I would drift into the new story. Just as things would get interesting...BAM. I jump from Boston where Malcolm has settled in as a gentleman lawyer to the mountains of North Carolina where he started his second family to Lark stranded in a downed plane in the mountains. All of the story lines were fascinating, but the book has that constant feel of not quite catching a buzz. Just when you get comfortable, the cops bang on the door — figuratively and literally.
To complicate all these jumps in time and place, the characters pass on the family names. Now, that is common in the mountains. In a book, it gets pretty confusing. Which Malcolm am I reading about this time? Which John is this? Even the girls hand down names, which is not as common. Malcolm fell in love with Elizabeth who died, so Malcolm married Rachel — the older and not-so-fun sister. They named a daughter Elizabeth. Both Elizabeth's died young, so I didn't have to keep up with them much anyway. But, that's one of the problems with the book. I need a chart to keep up with the names, and then the chart isn't much help when the names are the same.
In some ways, this book is a masterpiece. The author does tell wonderful stories with a ring of truth. I can catch most of the links and the way history does repeat as well as the family themes and names. My brothers are both named after family members, and three of my four maternal aunts are married to Bobs. Even when names don't come into play, I can see both physical and personality traits that crop up time and time again. I know where I got my big feet, and I know that I'm prone to be cranky if I don't get enough sleep.
On the other hand, a novel containing too many plot lines and too many identical names can be so confusing that the story gets lost just like the lost song central to the book. While some books sink in and stay with me, I'm not so sure about this one. I think I'll retain an echo of the story, but in a day or two, I'm pretty sure the details will all run together and be lost.
If you enjoy complex stories and have an interest in mountain culture, then I would highly recommend this book. Don't string it out over a long period of time, or you will be lost forever. If you prefer an easy read that you don't need to think about, then this book will get on your last nerve. You can't pick it up and read a little and put it down. You'll keep crossing over on the story lines and never know if you are coming or going or why you ever bought this book.
