$6.50. Time-Life Edition. Near Fine. Originally published in 1942, Cross Creek has become a classic in modern American literature. For the millions of readers raised on The Yearling, here is the story of Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings's experiences in the remote Florida hamlet of Cross Creek, where she lived for thirteen years. From the daily labors of managing a seventy-two-acre orange grove to bouts with runaway pigs and a succession of unruly farmhands, Rawlings describes her life at the Creek with...Mor

Cross Creek is one of the finest memoirs ever written, filled with grace and beauty from one of America's greatest writers, Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings. Perhaps no other writer has so perfectly and honestly captured a place and time like Rawlings did in Cross Creek. It will transport you to that small acreage of backwoods Florida and cause you to wish for a life such as this.

Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings purchased a seventy-two acre orange grove in this remote area and fled her aristocratic life in the city to perfect her craft and get published. It is here that all her beloved books would be written, including this memoir covering the years of hardships and beauty at Cross Creek. Rawlings was in many ways reborn in Cross Creek, and she would leave behind literary achievements such as "South Moon Under," "Golden Apples," "When the Whippoorwill," "Cross Creek Cookery," and of course, her Pulitzer winning, "The Yearling."

Her close relationships with her neighbors at the creek, both black and white, are told with humor and humanity. Their lives were often filled with hardships but serenity as well, for all of them had chosen to live this kind of life rather than conform to society. Especially poignant are Rawlings's observations of a young destitute couple who would later be portrayed so movingly in Jacob's Ladder.

Rawlings's recollections of her friendships with Moe and his daughter Mary, who was Moe's reason for living, and the only one in his family who cared whether he came or went, are told with such beauty we feel pain ourselves when he takes his last breath at the creek. Rawlings's deep friendships over the years with Tom and Old Martha are told with humor, honesty and a gift for description few have ever captured on paper.

Tinged with sadness is Marjorie's relationship both as employer and friend to 'Geechee. Rawlings would attempt to help her, but to no avail, as this sweet personality slowly became an unemployable alcoholic. Her mistreatment at the hands of a womanizer unworthy of her love was at the heart of her problem. It is perhaps also at the bottom of some bitter comments from Rawlings.

But Cross Creek is about the earth and our relationship to it. Rawlings came to believe over time that when we lose our connection to the earth, we lose a part of ourselves. The great and wondrous beauty of nature, from magnolia blossoms and rare herbs to Hayden mangos and papaya, are as much a part of this memoir as the people. Particularly hilarious are this gifted writer's descriptions of a pet racoon of such mischievous nature and cantankerous disposition that it almost seems human.

Rawlings's world at the creek is perhaps her legacy, a gift given to the reader we can never forget. In order to enjoy this memoir, however, one must take into consideration a number of factors. Published in 1942 and covering many years prior in a backwoods area of Florida, this was a time when racial equality was a distant dream. Some may be offended by Rawlings's casual - though never mean spirited - observations.

Rawlings honestly relates actual conversations from this time and place between blacks and whites, and blacks to other blacks. While Rawlings herself treated everyone fairly, a long string of farmhands prone to drink and violence - including the man who would destroy her friend and employee 'Geechee - prompted Rawlings to lump an entire race into one group, her friends at the creek being rare exceptions. I do not feel this caveat should keep anyone from reading this most beautiful and heartwarming of memoirs, as this is an unflinchingly honest look at a time and a place, as well as attitudes - warts and all.

Rawlings's graceful prose, whether describing a chorus of frogs singing at night as a Brahms waltz, the scent of hibiscus drifting through the air at dusk or myriad of dishes meticulously prepared and labored over for hours, is delightful and unforgettable. Cross Creek will make you hungry for succulent fruits, cornbread and hot biscuits with wild plum jelly, and the living of life itself.

Reading this lovingly written memoir will leave you with a wistful desire to walk away from society as Rawlings did, and live the life we crave in our very being, even if that life can only be lived in our hearts.

"Cross Creek belongs to the wind and the rain, to the sun and the seasons, to the cosmic secrecy of seed, and beyond all, to time."
Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings
(1896-1953) ( )

2011 (my brief review can be found on the LibraryThing page linked)
http://www.librarything.com/topic/104839#2667556 ( )

This book is more like a collection of essays or short stories than a memoir; it doesn't really have a plotline or story arc. It's a deep reflection on the time Rawlings spent living on a farm at Cross Creek in central Florida, most of her neighbors being very poor and the majority of them black. It's very much about place, local culture and backwoods Florida cuisine- in fact there's an entire lengthy chapter just about food- I didn't know Rawlings was so ambitious in the kitchen (and proud of it!)

Her writing is lovely, and of course I especially liked the parts about the weather and changing seasons, the local wildlife and flora. She describes keeping a garden, tending to fruit trees, going river boating or hunting with friends- and often as not she was glad to miss her shot, admiring the beauty of the animals instead- even though she also liked cooking up squirrels and quail and one time as an experiment shot a bunch of red-winged blackbirds and made a pie (before she knew they were a protected species). She describes the keeping of animals- her milk cow and an old mule, a succession of dogs; and dealing with the neighbors' cattle, half-wild hogs and hounds that roam onto the property at will. Most of all though, the book is about people, her hard-working poverty stricken neighbors and the various people she hires to take care of her house or work in her orange grove. Her attitude towards the black servants is sometimes deplorable- you can tell she tried hard to be kindly, often gave gifts and assistance to those around her, sent for the doctor when needed, etc. But the words she uses to describe them are offensive, and one incident in particular when her visiting brother became angry seeing how her home had been neglected by the servants when she was away and accosted them in the middle of the night- well, that really made me cringe. I also didn't like reading how she and a companion treated a sea turtle they encountered on the beach- although they were conscientious enough to leave half the clutch behind when taking turtle eggs to eat.

Aside from many colorful characters and interesting stories about the author's dealings with them, there's plenty about the raccoons and alligators, the deer and wild birds as well. I particularly admired how the author dealt with snakes- she wrote a whole chapter about snakes and deliberately went on a rattlesnake hunt with someone in order to make herself get over her fear of them. Many times she had to dispatch dangerous snakes found in the house; one time she cornered a snake and hit it first with a thick catalog and then with her own copy of The Yearling!

In spite of the discomfort some things in this book give me, it's one I'm definitely keeping on my shelf to read again. It inspires me to look for more of her fiction, especially after reading about some of the real-life incidents and people who inspired her to write.

from the Dogear Diary ( )

Very good essays about life in Ocala Florida in the 30s and 40s somewhat racist but the times allowed this and she is actually allowed to be disgruntled with her employees, n'est PAS? ( )