Beverly Butler (1) (1932–2007)

I have forgotten how many times I read this book as a pre-teen and teenager. And how gripping it is all these decades later is a testament not just to its subject matter, but also its writing style. I'm sure much of it is autobiographical, if not sequentially then at least through interactions in Ms. Butler's life.

The story begins with Cathy's 14th birthday and her brand-new set of pastels for her dreams of becoming an artist. A few weeks later, though, she is in the hospital for a necessary operation on her eyes due to glaucoma's pressure on her optic nerve. And once the bandages come off, she is blind.

Her life adjusts, her family accommodates her recovery, including finding Talking Books for the Blind at the local library that she could play on her family's record player. Interesting how "audiobooks" are just elements of everyday reading life since these books were checked out and sent back by Post!

Cathy chooses to attend the Institute for the Blind in Burton, about 100 miles from her home, after her best friend, Pete, cuts her out of his birthday party. Her experiences with her dorm mates, the low level of instruction, and the pettiness of the administrator, Miss "Creepy" Creel, are very well-described. Trying to understand this new world throws her into a depression, from which she emerges ready to go back to her local high school.

The next portion of this book goes into her month-long training with her guide dog, Trudy. Again, Cathy is talked out of doing what she originally intended (bringing Trudy with her to school) by another schoolmate. This so-called friend's do-gooding attitude wears thin after a month or so, and as one would guess, Trudy and Cathy enter school with minimal fuss.

I was surprised upon re-reading this book that it held up as well as it had over 60+ years. The insights Ms. Butler has into the people she encounters (through Cathy) are realistic and as relevant as when they were written. Glad I still have my copy even though the pages are falling out of their binding!… (more)

Before this, I'd only read one book by Beverly Butler: Gift of Gold, a soul-searching kind of novel (contemporary fiction at the time it was published, 1972) with wit and wisdom. That book, which I've read at least three times, is rather different from Song of the Voyageur.

This first novel of Butler's, published in 1955, is historical fiction where the "general situation and most of the events described...are drawn directly from historical facts" but peopled with fictional characters, set in the author's native Wisconsin. Or "Ouisconsin," what with the book's French-speaking folks.

Now, from the beginning, it almost felt like I'd entered the middle of a story or series where I was already supposed to be familiar with the characters, already invested in their lives, but I wasn't. Besides my expectation for some romance to factor into the overall outcome for Diane, the heroine, much of the story's "general situation" seemed to be a general look at a family and their various doings in and around their frontier cabin. Even with some important, dramatic events popping up, I didn't get the best sense of a focused plot during maybe half or more of the book.

Yet, even though my interest remained only on the mild side, my historical-fiction-loving self still found the old-fashioned reading to be pleasant, with a little thread of intrigue that eventually made me go "hmm." Granted, one specific moment that wasn't pleasant for me involved Diane and the romantic hero. (She said you're hurting her, dude. So let go of her wrist. Just because you want to marry her doesn't mean she owes you anything.) But on the whole, I didn't run into as many offensive moments as I thought might be possible.

See, given that some of the characters' racism toward indigenous peoples would burst out here and there, I was admittedly relieved not to see their ugly words portrayed as acceptable or just a matter of course. (Yes, I get nervous when I don't yet know how an author will handle a historical story's racial aspects, especially in older books.)

And I must say that as the heroine came to a particular realization toward the end, a few of the novel's lines gave me glimpses of the author who would one day write the excellent Gift of Gold.… (more)