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Daniel Boone

Daniel Boone

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Product Info Reviews

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Rating: 3 stars
Summary: A biography that won the Newbery Medal.
Review: A short biography of Daniel Boone (1734-1820) written by James Daughtery for children, probably for ages 10-14. It won the 1940 Newbery Medal for best contribution to American children's literature. This was a good biography when it first appeared, but better ones have been published since 1939.

Rating: 1 stars
Summary: A sad sorry case
Review: If you were, like myself, born after 1975, then you probably have some difficulty distinguishing between Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett. What better way to get a grasp on the elusive Mr. Boone (who, unlike Mr. Crockett, hasn't even a catchy Disney tune to hold on to) than to read the 1941 Caldecott winning bio "Daniel Boone" by James Daugherty? Here we have the Boone myth displayed in all its ambiguous glory. And here too, a shameful episode in America's past brought once more to light.

I'll admit it right now. Critiquing a bio-pic (at least that's what it felt like) of Daniel Boone for racism is like shooting fish in a barrel. A biography of Mr. Boone written today would have a mightily difficult time giving Native Americans any real depth or character. Now consider a Daniel Boone book written in the 1940s, and you see just how badly, how racist, and how cruel a children's book can be. I could go through this book chapter by chapter and pull out every instance of anti-"Indian" sentiment and place it before you in a huff. Instead, I'm just going to copy down here a section from the book that, to my mind, sums up the Native American feeling perfectly. This section describes an attack on an Indian village:

"...I saw some warriors run into a house, until I counted forty-six of them. We pursued them until we got near the house, when we saw a squaw sitting in the door, and she placed her feet against the bow she had in her hand, and then took an arrow, and raising her feet she drew with all her might and let fly at us and she killed a man, whose name I believe was Moore. He was a lieutenant and his death so enraged us all that she was fired on, and had at least twenty balls blown through her...We now shot them like dogs; and then set the house on fire, and it burned it up with the forty-six warriors in it. I recollect seeing a boy who was shot down near the house. His arm and thigh were broken, and he was so near the burning house that the grease was stewing out of him. In this situation he was still trying to crawl along; but not a murmur escaped him though he was only about twelve years old. So sullen is the Indian when his dander is up that he had sooner die than make a noise, or ask for quarters".

I could say something snarky in response to this passage, but I think it speaks for itself. Now, to be fair, this is a section quoted in the book itself from "The Autobiography of David Crockett" by an unnamed woodsman. But it appears as part of the narrative of this story and it is never challenged in any way. Great reading for the kiddies, eh? Especially when the book later goes on to state that the Native Americans were a dying race whose members, "met the personal tragedy of violent death with a serene indifference". Forgive me if passages like this make me mad.

The book follows Boone's life from birth (in the 1730s) to his death (in 1820). It displays him finding paths into Kentucky, getting captured many many times, and killing "Indians" left and right. You see his family members get slaughtered and his defense of the white settler forts. Sadly, the book is rather dull in its passages. Homestead life, as told here, is less interesting than anything found in your average "Little House on the Prairie" tale. In fact, the most interesting aspects of this book are the fights against the "Indians". But Daugherty wants it both ways. Even though he consistently refers to Native Americans as "varmints", "red", and "savages" he is considerate enough to note that some "Indians" aren't bad. He names the Native Americans by their tribes when he can. Oddest of all, Daugherty includes a long passage from Henry Beston's, "American Memory" in which a Seneca named Red Jacket decries the betrayal of his people by the white settlers. The passage is moving and heartfelt and, to be frank, utterly out of place in a book that celebrates the genocide of an entire race. It's almost as if Daugherty wanted to show the other side of the story. Instead, it's just a glimpse of the truth muffled under a book of lies, half-truths, and myths.

How much is actually known to be true about Boone is hard to say. And it's not as if Daugherty has included source notes with his tale. In any case, this book cannot be considered non-fiction. Too often does the author say what Boone is thinking, dreaming, or planning. Half the tales could be complete fabrications for all we know. The accompanying illustrations look like nothing so much as modified Thomas Hart Bentons. Men have rippling, almost grotesque, muscles and women sport overlarge feet and bosoms.

All in all, this book is woefully out of date and a sad testament to a style of writing that was once so prevalent. The only reason this book is even remembered today is because of its unfortunate Newbery Award. It's a sad case and an even sadder piece of writing. As a historical document into the racism and Manifest Destiny mode of thought once (and perhaps still) so prevalent in America, it's a striking testament. In all other ways, it's a relic and should be treated as such.

Rating: 1 stars
Summary: A sad sorry case
Review: If you were, like myself, born after 1975, then you probably have some difficulty distinguishing between Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett. What better way to get a grasp on the elusive Mr. Boone (who, unlike Mr. Crockett, hasn't even a catchy Disney tune to hold on to) than to read the 1941 Caldecott winning bio "Daniel Boone" by James Daugherty? Here we have the Boone myth displayed in all its ambiguous glory. And here too, a shameful episode in America's past brought once more to light.

I'll admit it right now. Critiquing a bio-pic (at least that's what it felt like) of Daniel Boone for racism is like shooting fish in a barrel. A biography of Mr. Boone written today would have a mightily difficult time giving Native Americans any real depth or character. Now consider a Daniel Boone book written in the 1940s, and you see just how badly, how racist, and how cruel a children's book can be. I could go through this book chapter by chapter and pull out every instance of anti-"Indian" sentiment and place it before you in a huff. Instead, I'm just going to copy down here a section from the book that, to my mind, sums up the Native American feeling perfectly. This section describes an attack on an Indian village:

"...I saw some warriors run into a house, until I counted forty-six of them. We pursued them until we got near the house, when we saw a squaw sitting in the door, and she placed her feet against the bow she had in her hand, and then took an arrow, and raising her feet she drew with all her might and let fly at us and she killed a man, whose name I believe was Moore. He was a lieutenant and his death so enraged us all that she was fired on, and had at least twenty balls blown through her...We now shot them like dogs; and then set the house on fire, and it burned it up with the forty-six warriors in it. I recollect seeing a boy who was shot down near the house. His arm and thigh were broken, and he was so near the burning house that the grease was stewing out of him. In this situation he was still trying to crawl along; but not a murmur escaped him though he was only about twelve years old. So sullen is the Indian when his dander is up that he had sooner die than make a noise, or ask for quarters".

I could say something snarky in response to this passage, but I think it speaks for itself. Now, to be fair, this is a section quoted in the book itself from "The Autobiography of David Crockett" by an unnamed woodsman. But it appears as part of the narrative of this story and it is never challenged in any way. Great reading for the kiddies, eh? Especially when the book later goes on to state that the Native Americans were a dying race whose members, "met the personal tragedy of violent death with a serene indifference". Forgive me if passages like this make me mad.

The book follows Boone's life from birth (in the 1730s) to his death (in 1820). It displays him finding paths into Kentucky, getting captured many many times, and killing "Indians" left and right. You see his family members get slaughtered and his defense of the white settler forts. Sadly, the book is rather dull in its passages. Homestead life, as told here, is less interesting than anything found in your average "Little House on the Prairie" tale. In fact, the most interesting aspects of this book are the fights against the "Indians". But Daugherty wants it both ways. Even though he consistently refers to Native Americans as "varmints", "red", and "savages" he is considerate enough to note that some "Indians" aren't bad. He names the Native Americans by their tribes when he can. Oddest of all, Daugherty includes a long passage from Henry Beston's, "American Memory" in which a Seneca named Red Jacket decries the betrayal of his people by the white settlers. The passage is moving and heartfelt and, to be frank, utterly out of place in a book that celebrates the genocide of an entire race. It's almost as if Daugherty wanted to show the other side of the story. Instead, it's just a glimpse of the truth muffled under a book of lies, half-truths, and myths.

How much is actually known to be true about Boone is hard to say. And it's not as if Daugherty has included source notes with his tale. In any case, this book cannot be considered non-fiction. Too often does the author say what Boone is thinking, dreaming, or planning. Half the tales could be complete fabrications for all we know. The accompanying illustrations look like nothing so much as modified Thomas Hart Bentons. Men have rippling, almost grotesque, muscles and women sport overlarge feet and bosoms.

All in all, this book is woefully out of date and a sad testament to a style of writing that was once so prevalent. The only reason this book is even remembered today is because of its unfortunate Newbery Award. It's a sad case and an even sadder piece of writing. As a historical document into the racism and Manifest Destiny mode of thought once (and perhaps still) so prevalent in America, it's a striking testament. In all other ways, it's a relic and should be treated as such.

Rating: 4 stars
Summary: Fine Newbery Winner
Review: In a nonfictionalized text and bold illustrations, the author not only portrays the famous American trailblazer, but provides an authentic picture of pioneer life at the beginning of the great Westward movement. The biography begins with Boone's youth in Pennsylvania and closes on the day he died in Missouri at the age of eighty-six.

Appropriate emphasis is put on Boone's important role in the opening up and settlement of Kentucky. Boone proved to be the ideal man for this time. The author's style, vigorous and simple like the subject's life conveys the pioneer spirit and suggests the frontier speech without reproducing the idiom in tedious detail. The lithographs of pioneers and Indians--done in black, brown and forest green--enhance the epic proportions of the narrative.


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