Of Moose and Maine (Sorry, Steinbeck)

Generally in the world of digital literature the maxim "you get what you pay for" holds true. There are a lot of free e-books out there, but when you veer from the tried and true classics you wander into "read at your own risk" territory - there's usually a reason such offerings didn't make it into the tried and true classic category. But on occasion you find something that, if not earth-shaking or of clear appeal to the masses, is a cute treasure that you appreciate that perhaps no one else ever would.

A few months ago, not really lacking in stuff to read, but hooked on the drug of getting things for free, I did a search for literature having to do with Maine. I found a couple dozen free, sappy-looking romance novels which, to me, weren't worth the price of the download, and I found a handful of old-time novels that looked interesting, or at least quaint and worth sucking in the kilobytes.

• The Pearl of Orr's Island: A Story of the Coast of Maine by Harriet Beecher Stow
• Uncle Terry: A Story of the Maine Coast by Charles Clark Munn
• Camp and Trail: A Story of the Maine Woods by Isabel Hornibrook

I didn't actually expect to read any of them! (What a hilarious thought! Actually reading something I've bought? What kind of book collector is that?) But last month I'd finished up a book and had no idea what to read next, so I poked around my weighty virtual collection and settled, against my better judgment, on Camp and Trail.  I enjoyed it thoroughly.

It's not one I would recommend too broadly.  Not that it was obscene or violent or anything unsavory, but it would be of limited appeal to most. I enjoyed it because it was a story of a group of young men camping and hunting around Moosehead Lake, Mount Katahdin and Millinocket, Maine, an area very close to where my parents live; places I've been to and even camped in. It takes place in 1890-something, and has the style and tone of its generation.  The men are way more emotional and the language way more stilted and eloquent than such a story would be today.  The characters are more noble and high-minded than they would be in a post-modern retelling. I have a hard time imagining any real Maine hunters or farmers sounding quite that principled and altruistic, or at least that vocal about it.  It was like Charles Dickens channeling the Hardy Boys.  And Hornibrook's attempt to transliterate the iconic Maine accent results in something I didn't recognize, which made me wonder if she had ever really heard it, or was just making it up based on the accounts of others.  But for all that, it was charming.  There were moose and bears and endless miles of trees and lake, and while it seemed to brush over the mosquitoes and deer flies and other nuisances of the great outdoors, it nevertheless resonated with what I know and love about Maine. Would I recommend it broadly? No. But would I be secretly pleased if someone picked it up and read it anyway? - as they say in Maine, "a-yah!"