God's Little Acre by Erskine Caldwell
Despite my somewhat lukewarm response to Tobacco Road, it made enough of an impression on me that I had to try another Erskine Caldwell book. Having now finished God’s Little Acre, I’m still not sure what the appeal is, the characters are mostly despicable, selfish and lazy; the writing isn’t particularly evocative or revealing or poetic. I think what frustrates me with Caldwell is that I can not identify what, if any?, point he is making with his novels. That people are stupid, narrow-minded and spiteful? That lust takes precedence over any sort of social decency or dignity? Families are fraught with treachery, betrayal and violence? I just really don’t know what to make of Caldwell’s writing. Am I looking for and expecting too much?
Pluto was anxious to get back to Georgia, and Griselda was frantic. She did not know what Buck might do to her for not returning home immediately, and it frightened her to think about it. She was glad to stay as long as she could, though, because it was the first time she had ever been in Horse Creek Valley, and the feeling of the company town gave her a pleasure she had never before experienced. The rows of yellow company houses, all looking alike to the eye, were individual homes to her now. She could look into the yellow company house next door and almost hear the exact words the people were saying. There was nothing like that in Marion. The houses in Marion were buildings with closed doors and uninviting windows. Here in Scottsville there was a murmuring mass of humanity, always on the verge of filling the air with a concerted shout.
God’s Little Acre, like Tobacco Road, revolves around a struggling family living on a failing farm. Ty Ty Walden (Caldwell has a knack for great character names, I’ll give him that.) is the patriarch of the family, forsaking the usual cotton growing in order to dig up his land in the hopes of striking gold. His sons, Buck and Shaw, assist him with the physical labour but without the belief of their father. Ty Ty’s daughter, Darling Jill (see what I mean about character names?!) is a promiscuous young lass being primed for marriage to the bumbling candidate for sheriff, Pluto Swint, but her interest in him depends largely on the proximity of other potential suitors. Buck’s wife Griselda is lauded as being the most attractive woman in the land, mainly by her father-in-law no less. In town, Will Thompson is fighting a battle with the cotton mill unions and drinking too much and running around on his wife, Ty Ty’s other daughter, Rosamond.
“Nothing started it, Pa,” Shaw said. “And it wasn’t about sharing the gold. It wasn’t about anything like that. It just happened, that’s all. Every time that son-of-a-bitch comes over here he invites a beating. It’s just the way he talks and acts. He acts like he’s better than we are or something. He acts like he’s better because he works in a cotton mill. He’s always calling Buck and me countrymen.”
The story is so lurid and overwrought that I don’t know what to make of it. Ty Ty wrangles an albino to help divine the location of gold on his property, the family take some trips in to town to gather Will and Rosamond for help in digging for gold, Pluto follows around a bit complaining that he should be on the campaign trail, the women sleep around, the men sleep around. Jealousy abounds, avenged usually with acts of violence. If I sound a little nonchalant about the narrative, it is because I just don’t feel anything about it. The writing is functional, it doesn’t make me think about things in a new way, it never extends beyond what is happening, but it compels me to keep reading. However, I want more from the books I read than to find out what happens next, Caldwell!
And yet, in spite of this confused response, I find myself eyeing off the other Erskine Caldwell books the local library has buried in their stacks?