In the March/April Montana Magazine
For 19 years I’ve been walking through a library door under the word “Carnegie.” At some recent point I realized that 16 other Montana communities have Carnegie libraries, and I wondered what they were like.
Butch Larcombe, my editor at Montana Magazine, encouraged me to dig around, and my survey revealed diversity: art museums, office buildings, and community gathering-places. More importantly, I got to further explore what I think is a key time period in Montana history: 1900-1925, as the state gained enough residents to move out of its frontier phase and build some sort of society. The choices those society-builders made have far-more-significant ramifications for life today than do the choices made by their predecessors, if only because those choices were often made in brick and stone. So the institutions those folks built, such as Carnegie Libraries, are often still in use today.
In the period since I began the investigation, economic hard times have in some places (not, to my knowledge, in Montana) curtailed public funding for libraries. I hope that my article (an excerpt is available here) can serve as a partial reminder of the tremendous good accomplished by these community treasures.
(For research geeks: Good sources on Carnegie Libraries include: George Bobinski’s Carnegie Libraries: Their History and Impact on American Public Library Development; Molly Skeen’s “How America's Carnegie Libraries Adapt to Survive”; Theodore Jones’ Carnegie Libraries Across America: A Public Legacy; and the Montana state library directory at http://msl.state.mt.us/for_librarians/Library_Directory/Browse_Path/default.asp )
I'm always interested in feedback, via info at johnclaytonbooks dot com
Butch Larcombe, my editor at Montana Magazine, encouraged me to dig around, and my survey revealed diversity: art museums, office buildings, and community gathering-places. More importantly, I got to further explore what I think is a key time period in Montana history: 1900-1925, as the state gained enough residents to move out of its frontier phase and build some sort of society. The choices those society-builders made have far-more-significant ramifications for life today than do the choices made by their predecessors, if only because those choices were often made in brick and stone. So the institutions those folks built, such as Carnegie Libraries, are often still in use today.
In the period since I began the investigation, economic hard times have in some places (not, to my knowledge, in Montana) curtailed public funding for libraries. I hope that my article (an excerpt is available here) can serve as a partial reminder of the tremendous good accomplished by these community treasures.
(For research geeks: Good sources on Carnegie Libraries include: George Bobinski’s Carnegie Libraries: Their History and Impact on American Public Library Development; Molly Skeen’s “How America's Carnegie Libraries Adapt to Survive”; Theodore Jones’ Carnegie Libraries Across America: A Public Legacy; and the Montana state library directory at http://msl.state.mt.us/for_librarians/Library_Directory/Browse_Path/default.asp )
I'm always interested in feedback, via info at johnclaytonbooks dot com
Legends, factual and otherwise
One of the most compelling, infuriating, fascinating books I’ve read in a long time is the recent nonfiction book about Wyoming, Alexandra Fuller’s The Legend of Colton H. Bryant.
I saw Fuller speak at the Equality State Book Festival last fall and she was fantastic: funny, touching, sympathetic, smart, sure of herself, and willing to challenge her audience to lose their preconceptions. She’s one of those authors who doesn’t do a reading so much as a performance. If she’s ever speaking near you, go see her.
After the talk I bought the book, and was pleased to see Fuller’s personality also come through on the page. She’s concerned about coal bed methane drilling, the new natural gas technology that’s fueling a huge boom across Wyoming. So what she does in the book is to challenge herself, by becoming immersed in the life of a young man who worked and died on the rigs. Fuller’s a great writer, and Bryant -- such a typical kid that he probably would not have been written about had he not come to an untimely end -- really catches fire in our minds.
A Wyoming friend criticized the book as yet another romanticization of the state, but that didn’t bother me. In a world where we romanticize cops, spies, gamblers, and even investment bankers, I say it’s about time somebody romanticized a rural high-school graduate working a dull blue-collar job. And in a world where Fuller’s political position is often portrayed as elitist, I appreciated her genuine admiration for a lousy industry’s employees.
The infuriating part was in the author’s note at the end: “This is a work of nonfiction, but…” That “but” is a killer. Fuller has changed timelines, invented dialogue, and owned up only in the vaguest way to several other tactics that are not nonfiction. In the speech she admitted to having changed a few oaths to “frigging” and “crap” out of respect for the mother of a dead child. But the book is full of crap. That is, the word “crap” appears regularly, so much so that using “crap” instead of the harsher word seems to be one of the unique characteristics that makes up Colton’s character. Except that maybe, once you get the full explanation from the author, it isn’t.
The nonfiction writer’s bond with the reader depends on the reader’s faith in its nonfiction-ality. People who make stuff up willy-nilly lose that faith. Two easy solutions exist: An author can be up-front about it -- in excruciating detail -- or write it as fiction. But when he or she tries to straddle those lines, reader infuriation ensues.
I’m still glad I read “The Legend of Colton H. Bryant.” It has an important message told well. I especially look forward to reading more of Fuller. But if I see another book, by any author, containing the phrase “This is a work of nonfiction, but…” -- that’s probably the last phrase in that book I will read.
I'm always interested in feedback, via info at johnclaytonbooks dot com
I saw Fuller speak at the Equality State Book Festival last fall and she was fantastic: funny, touching, sympathetic, smart, sure of herself, and willing to challenge her audience to lose their preconceptions. She’s one of those authors who doesn’t do a reading so much as a performance. If she’s ever speaking near you, go see her.
After the talk I bought the book, and was pleased to see Fuller’s personality also come through on the page. She’s concerned about coal bed methane drilling, the new natural gas technology that’s fueling a huge boom across Wyoming. So what she does in the book is to challenge herself, by becoming immersed in the life of a young man who worked and died on the rigs. Fuller’s a great writer, and Bryant -- such a typical kid that he probably would not have been written about had he not come to an untimely end -- really catches fire in our minds.
A Wyoming friend criticized the book as yet another romanticization of the state, but that didn’t bother me. In a world where we romanticize cops, spies, gamblers, and even investment bankers, I say it’s about time somebody romanticized a rural high-school graduate working a dull blue-collar job. And in a world where Fuller’s political position is often portrayed as elitist, I appreciated her genuine admiration for a lousy industry’s employees.
The infuriating part was in the author’s note at the end: “This is a work of nonfiction, but…” That “but” is a killer. Fuller has changed timelines, invented dialogue, and owned up only in the vaguest way to several other tactics that are not nonfiction. In the speech she admitted to having changed a few oaths to “frigging” and “crap” out of respect for the mother of a dead child. But the book is full of crap. That is, the word “crap” appears regularly, so much so that using “crap” instead of the harsher word seems to be one of the unique characteristics that makes up Colton’s character. Except that maybe, once you get the full explanation from the author, it isn’t.
The nonfiction writer’s bond with the reader depends on the reader’s faith in its nonfiction-ality. People who make stuff up willy-nilly lose that faith. Two easy solutions exist: An author can be up-front about it -- in excruciating detail -- or write it as fiction. But when he or she tries to straddle those lines, reader infuriation ensues.
I’m still glad I read “The Legend of Colton H. Bryant.” It has an important message told well. I especially look forward to reading more of Fuller. But if I see another book, by any author, containing the phrase “This is a work of nonfiction, but…” -- that’s probably the last phrase in that book I will read.
I'm always interested in feedback, via info at johnclaytonbooks dot com
Lockhart to be discussed on site
Those in the Lovell, Wyoming, area have a rare opportunity this spring to delve fully into the life of Caroline Lockhart. The Bighorn Canyon National Recreation Area is sponsoring a three-event book discussion group focusing on Lockhart.
Details are available here, but I particularly recommend the May 9 tour of the Lockhart ranch itself. Not only are Chris Finley and Christy Fleming incredibly knowledgeable about the site and Lockhart’s life, but spring is a gorgeous time of year to visit. The greening grass and blooming cottonwoods of the L Slash Heart in early May were what first attracted me to Lockhart as a potential subject.
I'm always interested in feedback, via info at johnclaytonbooks dot com
Details are available here, but I particularly recommend the May 9 tour of the Lockhart ranch itself. Not only are Chris Finley and Christy Fleming incredibly knowledgeable about the site and Lockhart’s life, but spring is a gorgeous time of year to visit. The greening grass and blooming cottonwoods of the L Slash Heart in early May were what first attracted me to Lockhart as a potential subject.
I'm always interested in feedback, via info at johnclaytonbooks dot com
