Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings
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CNN totally overlooks Pulitzer Prize winner Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings, who was publishing young adult literature long before the '40s.
A brief history of young adult literature | CNN The roots of young adult go back to when “teenagers” were given their own distinction as a social demographic: World War II. Seventeenth Summer, released by Maureen Daly in 1942, is considered to be the first book written and published explicitly for teenagers, according to Cart, an author and the former president of the Young Adult Library Services Association. It was a novel largely for girls about first love. In its footsteps followed other romances, ands sport novels for boys. Cross Creek, Florida | Wikipedia Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings (1896-1953) | Wikipedia Her best known work, The Yearling, about a boy who adopts an orphaned fawn, won a Pulitzer Prize for fiction in 1939 and was later [in 1946] made into a movie of the same name. The book was written long before the concept of young adult fiction, but is now commonly included in teen-reading lists. No, I most certainly do not think advertising people are wonderful. I think they are horrible, and the worst menace to mankind, next to war; perhaps ahead of war. They stand for the material viewpoint, for the importance of possessions, of desire, of envy, of greed. And war comes from these things. — Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings (1896-1953)
Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings | Florida Irish Heritage Center
Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings Historic State Park | Google Maps
Creating Respect for People and Place: Majorie Kinnan Rawlings | YouTube
Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings & Cracker Culture | YouTube
Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings Historic State Park | YouTube
The Life and Times of Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings | YouTube
Author: Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings | YouTube
The Artistic Ties Between Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings and Robert E. Carson | YouTube
Cross Creek Interview With J.T. Glisson | YouTube
Cross Creek, Florida - A Short Documentary Story | YouTube
Cross Creek (film) 1983 | Wikipedia — Vudu Cross Creek | Google Books Who owns Cross Creek? The red-birds, I think, more than I, for they will have their nests even in the face of delinquent mortgages... It seems to me that the earth may be borrowed, but not bought. It may be used, but not owned. It gives itself in response to love and tending, offers its seasonal flowering and fruiting. But we are tenants and not possessors, lovers, and not masters. 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... If there can be such a thing as instinctual memory, the consciousness of land and water must lie deeper in the core of us than any knowledge of our fellow beings. We were bred of the earth before we were born of our mothers. Once born, we can live without our mothers or fathers, or any other kin, or any friend, or human love. We cannot live without the earth or apart from it, and something shrivels in a man’s heart when he turns away from it and concerns himself only with the affairs of men.... I had become a part of Cross Creek. I was more than a writer. I was a wife, a friend, a part of the earth. Who owns Cross Creek? The earth maybe, borrowed not bought, maybe used, not owned. It gives itself in response to love and tenderness, offers its seasonal flowering and fruiting. Cross Creek belongs to the wind and the rain, to the sun and seasons, to the cosmic secrecy of seed, and beyond all to time. ... We need above all, I think, a certain remoteness from urban confusion and while this can be found in other places, Cross Creek offers it with such beauty and grace that once entangled with it no other place seems possible to us. For myself, the Creek satisfies a thing that had gone hungry and unfed [in me] since childhood days. I am often lonely. Who is not? But I should be lonelier in the heart of the city. ... It is necessary to leave the impersonal highway, to step inside the rusty gate and close it behind. One is now inside the orange grove, out of one world and in the mysterious heart of another. And after long years of spiritual homelessness, of nostalgia, here is that mystic loveliness of childhood again. Here is home. The Yearling by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings (1938) The Lost Yearling: An American classic fades away Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings Essay William Soskin notes in the New York Herald Tribune Book Review, The Yearling ”is an education in life that is far removed from our dreary urban formulas. ...[This] story of a boy and an animal becomes one of the most exquisite I have ever read.” The Yearling (1946 film) | Wikipedia — Vudu (Trailer) The Yearling (1994 film) | Wikipedia — Roku Channel (free) The Yearling | Google Books You've seed how things goes in the world o' men. You've knowed men to be low-down and mean. You've seed ol' Death at his tricks...Ever' man wants life to be a fine thing, and a easy. 'Tis fine, boy, powerful fine, but 'tain't easy. Life knocks a man down and he gits up and it knocks him down agin. I've been uneasy all my life...I've wanted life to be easy for you. Easier'n 'twas for me. A man's heart aches, seein' his young uns face the world. Knowin' they got to get their guts tore out, the way his was tore. I wanted to spare you, long as I could. I wanted you to frolic with your yearlin'. I knowed the lonesomeness he eased for you. But ever' man's lonesome. What's he to do then? What's he to do when he gits knocked down? Why, take it for his share and go on. The wild animals seemed less predatory to him than people he had known. QUOTES — After 30 years of urban life, I was totally unprepared for this small Florida town.... It is the Florida where a man can still make a living with an axe and a gun... This is the Florida, wild and natural, that I’m calling ‘the invisible Florida’....it is invisible because its beauty must be seen with the spiritual as well as the physical eye.... I’ve longed to re-create, to make visible, this invisible beauty. ... I do not understand how anyone can live without one small place of enchantment to turn to. No man should have proprietary rights over land who does not use that land wisely and lovingly. It is impossible to be among the woods animals on their own ground without a feeling of expanding one's own world, as when any foreign country is visited. It is more important to live the life one wishes to live, and to go down with it if necessary, quite contentedly, than to live more profitably but less happily. They were all too tightly bound together, men and women, creatures wild and tame, flowers, fruits and leaves, to ask that any one be spared. As long as the whole continued, the earth could go about its business. The best fish in the world are of course those one catches oneself. Information can be passed from one to another, like a silver dollar. There’s absolutely no wisdom except what you learn for yourself. Grandma Hutto’s flower garden was a bright patchwork quilt thrown down inside the pickets. Men had reached into the scrub and along its boundaries, had snatched what they could get and had gone away, uneasy in that vast indifferent peace; for a man was nothing, crawling ant-like among the myrtle bushes under the pines. Now they were gone, it was as though they had never been. The silence of the scrub was primordial. The wood-thrush crying across it might have been the first bird in the world-or the last. A dead tree, falling, made less havoc than a live one. It seemed as though a live tree went down fighting, like an animal. Food imaginatively and lovingly prepared, and eaten in good company, warms the being with something more than the mere intake of calories. I cannot conceive of cooking for friends or family, under reasonable conditions, as being a chore. Now, having left cities behind me, turned Away forever from the strange, gregarious Huddling of men by stones, I find those various Great towns I knew fused into one, burned Together in the fire of my despising... She lives a sophisticate's life among worldly people. At the slightest excuse she steps out of civilization, naked and relieved, as I should step out of a soiled chemise.