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2013-09-13Original language:EnglishPDF # 1 9.69 x .7 x 7.44l, .18 #File Name: 144324126136 pages | File size: 67.Mb

Hayden Carruth : The Voyage of the Rattletrap before purchasing it in order to gage whether or not it would be worth my time, and all praised The Voyage of the Rattletrap:

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. This is a time period piece that can still be a learning experience for any young reader wanting to know what it was like over aBy Lewis Hal Davis IIIAn enjoyable read on the lighthearted side. Three young men on a journey in an old wagon across the upper Midwest have adventures and meet different people. This is a time period piece that can still be a learning experience for any young reader wanting to know what it was like over a hundred years ago to travel through a country that was rapidly changing. This book was meant to be comical, and I guess for its day, it was.0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. A wonderful tale of three boys' adventures in the Midwest 100+ ...By daisy barrowA wonderful tale of three boys' adventures in the Midwest 100+ years ago. A quick read that will take you back to a slower, safer time.1 of 1 people found the following review helpful. For a rip-roaring good time...By Davey JonesThe Rattletrap rides like a rip-roarious, slapstick road trip set in the old west, pioneering days. Three friends, a lazy dog, a dubious pony, and a pair of horses set out west and back again, stumbling upon all sorts of misadventures. The Rattletrap proceeds much like modern comedies set around the same context and this novel ends with no more great meaning or insight than those. And there are several times when the authors uses words or references that seem to throw the story into a sort of time warp with more modern civilization. Nonetheless, it's an overall entertaining read and one that will certainly outlive the minor criticisms of this review.

Excerpt: ...and in a little cut a few rods away we saw the sand drifted over the rails three or four inches deep, precisely like snow. "Well," said Jack, "I guess we're in the Sand Hills at last if we've got where it drifts." "I wonder if they have to have sand-ploughs on their engines?" said Ollie. "I've heard that they frequently have to stop and shovel it off," answered Jack. As we got farther among the sand dunes we found them all sizes and shapes, though usually circular, and from fifteen to forty feet high. Of course the surface of the county was very irregular, and there would be places here and there where the grass had obtained a little footing and the sand had not drifted up. There were also some hills which seemed to be independent of the sand piles. We stopped for noon on a little flat where there was some struggling grass, This flat ran off to the north, and narrowed into a small valley through which in the spring probably a little water flowed. We had finished dinner when we noticed a flock of big birds circling about the little valley, and, on looking closer, saw that some of them were on the ground. "They are sand-hill cranes," said Jack. "I've seen them in Dakota, but this must be their home." They were immense birds, white and gray, and with very long legs. Jack took his rifle and tried to creep up on them, but they were too shy, and soared away to the south. We soon passed the first station on the railroad, called Crookston. The telegraph-operator came out and looked at us, admitted that it was a sandy neighborhood, and went back in. We toiled on without any incident of note during the whole afternoon. Toward night we passed another station, called Georgia, and the man in charge allowed us to fill our kegs from the water-tank. .We went on three or four miles and stopped beside the trail, and a hundred yards from the railroad, for the night. The great drifts of sand were all around us, and no desert could have been lonelier. We had a little...

About the AuthorHayden Carruth was born on August 3, 1921, in Waterbury, Connecticut, and educated at both the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and the , where he earned a master's degree. His first collection of poems, The Crow and the Heart, was published in 1959. Since then, he published more than thirty books, including Toward the Distant Islands: New and Selected Poems (Copper Canyon Press, 2006) and Doctor Jazz: Poems 1996-2000 (2001). Other poetry titles include Scrambled Eggs Whiskey: Poems, 1991-1995 (1996), which received the National Book Award for Poetry; Collected Longer Poems (1994); Collected Shorter Poems, 1946-1991 (1992), which received the National Book Critics' Circle Award; The Sleeping Beauty (1990); and Tell Me Again How the White Heron Rises and Flies Across Nacreous River at Twilight Toward the Distant Islands (1989). Known also for his criticism, Carruth is the author of several prose collections, including Selected Essays s (Copper Canyon Press, 1996) and Sitting In: Selected Writings on Jazz, Blues, and Related Topics (1993), as well as nonfiction works, including Beside the Shadblow Tree: A Memoir of (Copper Canyon Press, 1999) and Reluctantly: Autobiographical Essays (1998). He is also the author of a novel, Appendix A (1963), and has edited a number of anthologies, including The Voice That Is Great Within Us: American Poetry of the Twentieth Century (Bantam, 1970). Informed by his political radicalism and sense of cultural responsibility, many of Carruth's best-known poems are about the people and places of northern , as well as rural poverty and hardship. About Carruth and his work, the poet Galway Kinnell has said, "This is not a man who sits down to 'write a poem'; rather, some burden of understanding and feeling, some need to know, forces his poems into being. Thoreau said, 'Be it life or death, what we crave is reality.' So it is with Carruth. And even in hell, knowledge itself bestows a halo around the consciousness with, at moments, attains it." Carruth received fellowships from the Bollingen Foundation, the Guggenheim Foundation, and the National Endowment for the Arts, and a 1995 Lannan Literary Fellowship. He was presented with the Lenore Marshall Award, the Paterson Poetry Prize, the Vermont Governor's Medal, the Award, the Whiting Award, and the Ruth Lilly Prize, among many others. He taught at Bucknell University in Lewisburg, Pennsylvania and at the Graduate Creative Writing Program at . Carruth lived in Vermont for many years before residing in Munnsville, , with his wife, the poet Joe-Anne McLaughlin Carruth. He died September 29, 2008.

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