Zailor, ees fai! ay and zarve un raight. Her can't kape out o' the watter here, whur a' must, goo vor to vaind un, zame as a gurt to-ad squalloping, and mux up till I be wore out, I be, wi' the very saight of 's braiches. How wil un ever baide aboard zhip, wi' the watter zinging out under un, and comin' up splash when the wind blow. Latt un goo, missus, latt un goo, zay I for wan, and old Davy wash his clouts for un.”

Well, it’s at least my third reading of this classic set in 17th century England (another childhood favourite) and I’d give it more stars each time. It’s one of those books that grows with you, and you get more out of it with every reading. For one thing, it’s the most romantic book I’ve ever read, and I just fall to my knees (metaphorically!) when I look at this picture -many, many thanks to Ilse for teaching me how to insert an image! Alan Clarke, Dictionary of British Comic Artists, Writers and Editors, The British Library, 1998, p. 28Oakley, Atholl (1996). Blue blood on the mat. Summersdale Publishers LTD. p.86. ISBN 9781840249330– via Google Books. so how is this ‘feministlit: well, this is kind of the Victorian idealized woman, that is, beautiful, warm, kind, gentle, giving, caring, loyal, beautiful... um, beautiful? (she knows how to be passive)

Her uncle continues in the vein of doing her a great favour (one which I can’t specify!) and demands thanks: Lorna Doone is framed around the Monmouth rebellion but the book isn't a historical fiction. The Doone clan's ties to Monmouth serves as a way to explain their antagonism to John Ridd and his family. It's also a narrative excuse to throw in adventure, danger and derring-do.I'm so familiar with history from 1800 on that the world of the 1680s feels incredibly strange to me. It is so hard to wrap my mind around the isolation they experienced and the difficulty in communicating and traveling. Twice in the novel, John goes to London and it's a huge undertaking. He spends time just walking the streets because it's so different from the farm he has grown up on at home in Exmoor. I did love the details of farming at this time, including the harvest festival they celebrate. It reminded me a ton of Thomas Hardy's novels, especially Far From the Madding Crowd. There are passages of beautiful nature writing as well. I think my favorite section was an epic Long Winter (i.e. Laura Ingalls Wilder intensity) when John makes his own snowshoes (thanks to his sister Lizzie) and goes on an epic adventure, which I won't spoil. You sweet love," I said at this, being slave to her soft obedience; "do you suppose I should be content to leave you until Elysium?" "How on earth can I tell, dear John, what you will be content with?" "You, and only you," said I; "the whole of it lies in a syllable. Now you know my entire want; and want must be my comfort etc. etc.

Cleanliness: there is killing, pillaging and ravishing women away. Nothing is overt or too detailed though. There is drinking and smoking. Mentions the word “breast”, most often to describe the chest. There is a “witch” that the main character goes to see to learn his fate. Some witchcraft mentioned/discussed (even how it’s not Biblical) but not actually practiced by the “witch.” But how shall I tell you the things I felt, and the swelling of my heart within me, as I drew nearer, and more near, to the place of all I loved and owned, to the haunt of every warm remembrance, the nest of all the fledgling hopes – in a word, to home? The first sheep I beheld on the moor with a great red J.R. on his side (for mother would have them marked with my name, instead of her own, as they should have been) I do asure you my spirit leaped, and all my sight came to my eyes. I shouted out, ‘Jem boy!’ – for that was his name, and a rare hand he was at fighting – and he knew me in spite of the stranger horse; and I leaned over and stroked his head, and swore he should never be mutton. And when I was passed he set off at full gallop, to call the rest of the J.R.’s together, and tell them young master was come home at last.”Not to mention that the characters are all unlikable. John Ridd is a bully who thinks too much of himself, whips the man who works for him with the slightest whim, hates the sister who challenges his manly authority and stalks pretty Lorna Doone until she can do nothing but accept his strange version of love. Lorna herself is insipid and can hardly even manage the simple act of walking while talking without needing to rest because it makes her feel faint. The gender roles are appalling. The mother and the 'good' sister fawn all over John and cater to his every wish and command, while the 'bad' sister is disliked because she has a brain and wants to use it. I hate it when this book ends! Really it couldn't keep going, but I so want it too. I just want to live on that farm in that beautiful country.

I'm telling you, when you actually feel more for the characters who are rapists, murderers and thieves, you're in a lot of trouble. Now this may seem very strange to us who live in a better and purer age—or say at least that we do so—and yet who are we to condemn our fathers for teaching us better manners, and at their own expense?

CHAPTER XXIX

We waited a very long time, with the moon marching up heaven steadfastly, and the white fog trembling in chords and columns, like a silver harp of the meadows. And then the moon drew up the fogs, and scarfed herself in white with them; and so being proud, gleamed upon the water, like a bride at her looking-glass; and yet there was no sound of either John Fry, or his blunderbuss.” John Ridd, the main character, is a lot like Beth March. Good but simple (and he’d say simple-minded), plain, boring, monotone. Just not much to get into or care about with this guy. This would be a fabulous book to put in the category "Blood and Morality Tales for Young Boys" because it's got plenty of action, blood, and adventure--with only a tinge of romance (the guy has to get the girl)and the hero is really heroic not only in action but in character. I wonder about getting a youngster through the "asides" but I think a good reader would be caught up enough in the story to go through with it. Oh no, sir, oh no!' cried mother: 'you really must not think of it. He has always been brought up so honest—'