Gene Stratton Porter: Freckles

I can see without binoculars why my Mother and her Mother before her considered this book a personal favorite. Porter's charmingly spiritual model of the world is instantly compelling, and almost convinces one of the fundamental goodness of people. Almost. In addition to my natural resistance of such an optimistic paradigm, I found Porter's characterization lacking that edge which would have made her characters believable and sympathetic. As it is, though bald caricatures of human goodness, the population of Freckles is generally enjoyable company as long as one does not take them for more than allegorical archetypes.

The real sparkle of the book lies, not in the people, but in the plot. Porter's simple charm and ingenuous honesty deliver precisley the right tone for a story that came to me at exactly the right time. Freckles is, like me, an amputee, and, like me, does not allow his handicap to get in the way of his hard work, but is insecure enough to let it get in the way of his heart's desire. Feeling condemned to life as a demi monde, he must be forcefully convinced that life holds more for him than the bare necessities, let alone a tender and devoted lover. The moment at which he finally allows himself to be convinced of his worthiness deserves direct quotation, and I expect it to inspire tears on the second reading, as it did on the first:

"Now, here was another class [of people], that had all they needed of the world's best and were engaged in doing things that counted. They had things worth while to be proud of; and they had met him as a son and brother. With them he could, for the only time in his life, forget the lost hand that every day tortured him with a new pang" (161).