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Lilly Library
Jun. 24th, 2023 01:58 pmAnother journey to the Lilly Library! My last journey to the Lilly Library, at least for now: with these final two books, I’ve wrapped up the Lilly stage of the Newbery Honor project.
Julia Davis Adams’ Vaino, a Boy of New Finland is an adventure tale, set during the then-recent Finnish war of independence, in which the Finns fought not only against the Russian occupiers but also against each other in a miniature echo of the Russian Revolution, Whites against Reds, only in Finland the Whites won.
I knew almost nothing about Finland going in, so this book was quite educational, not only about history but folklore, as well. The narrative frequently stops for the protagonist Vaino’s stalwart, patriotic mother to tell Finnish folktales, often about Vaino’s namesake, the folktale Vaino who is wise and mighty in magic, but never gets the girl. (One girl actually drowns herself rather than marry him.)
Our Vaino is too young to join the White army, but nonetheless helps his older brother and sister in a few commando raids, with the blessings of his mother. In general, the pre-1960s Newbery books tend to treat war as an opportunity for a thrilling adventure yarn, whereas the post-1960s books are mostly in the My Brother Sam is Dead “the horror, the horror” mode. Philosophically I’m on board with “the horror, the horror,” but as a reader I much prefer the venturesome child soldiers.
Eloise Lownsbery’s Out of the Flame, meanwhile, is a more pacifist tale. Our hero Pierre, growing up in the French court as the ward of Francis I, at first ardently yearns to be a knight - only to slowly grow disenchanted with the reality of knighthood. Does he want to take part in pointlessly destructive invasions of neighboring countries, like Francis’s early, disastrous war against Charles V?
That war ended with both Francis’s young sons Francis and Henri living as hostages in Spain for four years. When they finally returned to France - the incident that kicks off this novel - they only spoke Spanish. Henri, in particular, returns brooding and angry, unable to shake off the dark shadows of his captivity, a living testament to the long-term damages wrought by war.
However, the heart of the book is not in war or knighthood, but the ferment of early 16th century intellectual and artistic life. Thomas More and Rabelais visit the court; the king orders famous Italian Renaissance paintings and the construction of new palaces in the exciting new architectural styles. The children visit the house where Leonardo da Vinci lived out his last days, and admire the wonderful notebooks he left behind.
Lownsbery pauses occasionally to point out that this whole patron of the arts gig is built on the backs of ruinous taxation for the peasants, and that court life is riven with petty intrigues and factionalism. This is true, but nonetheless Pierre and the king’s children live in an enchanted atmosphere of never-ending picnic, which is delightful to read but perhaps undermines Lownsbery’s point.
Julia Davis Adams’ Vaino, a Boy of New Finland is an adventure tale, set during the then-recent Finnish war of independence, in which the Finns fought not only against the Russian occupiers but also against each other in a miniature echo of the Russian Revolution, Whites against Reds, only in Finland the Whites won.
I knew almost nothing about Finland going in, so this book was quite educational, not only about history but folklore, as well. The narrative frequently stops for the protagonist Vaino’s stalwart, patriotic mother to tell Finnish folktales, often about Vaino’s namesake, the folktale Vaino who is wise and mighty in magic, but never gets the girl. (One girl actually drowns herself rather than marry him.)
Our Vaino is too young to join the White army, but nonetheless helps his older brother and sister in a few commando raids, with the blessings of his mother. In general, the pre-1960s Newbery books tend to treat war as an opportunity for a thrilling adventure yarn, whereas the post-1960s books are mostly in the My Brother Sam is Dead “the horror, the horror” mode. Philosophically I’m on board with “the horror, the horror,” but as a reader I much prefer the venturesome child soldiers.
Eloise Lownsbery’s Out of the Flame, meanwhile, is a more pacifist tale. Our hero Pierre, growing up in the French court as the ward of Francis I, at first ardently yearns to be a knight - only to slowly grow disenchanted with the reality of knighthood. Does he want to take part in pointlessly destructive invasions of neighboring countries, like Francis’s early, disastrous war against Charles V?
That war ended with both Francis’s young sons Francis and Henri living as hostages in Spain for four years. When they finally returned to France - the incident that kicks off this novel - they only spoke Spanish. Henri, in particular, returns brooding and angry, unable to shake off the dark shadows of his captivity, a living testament to the long-term damages wrought by war.
However, the heart of the book is not in war or knighthood, but the ferment of early 16th century intellectual and artistic life. Thomas More and Rabelais visit the court; the king orders famous Italian Renaissance paintings and the construction of new palaces in the exciting new architectural styles. The children visit the house where Leonardo da Vinci lived out his last days, and admire the wonderful notebooks he left behind.
Lownsbery pauses occasionally to point out that this whole patron of the arts gig is built on the backs of ruinous taxation for the peasants, and that court life is riven with petty intrigues and factionalism. This is true, but nonetheless Pierre and the king’s children live in an enchanted atmosphere of never-ending picnic, which is delightful to read but perhaps undermines Lownsbery’s point.
