This Is it, Lark Harnish
This Is it, Lark Harnish
Finally, the smoke was no longer rolling up. We removed the blanket. The flames were gone. The tree stump was burnt black. The blanket was badly scorched, but the water had kept it from burning up.
“We did it, Mrs. McMaster!” I said. “We did it all on our own without the men.”
“Yes well, it seems this was indeed within our capabilities,” she said. Her smudged hand left a black streak across her cheek as she pulled a lock of hair off her forehead. The more I studied her face, the funnier it seemed. I started to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” she demanded. Mrs. McMaster looked as though she were sporting a black eye.
“Your face,” I said, pointing. “There’s a black streak.” She really was a sorry-looking sight.
“My face? I should think you’d want to check a mirror yourself. Why, you look like you rolled in an ashpan.” she said. I stopped laughing and for a second, we both stood staring at one another. Then suddenly we were both laughing, still holding fast to the charred wool blanket. Behind us, Charlie whinnied.
“Charlie’s laughing too,” said Georgie, his eyes shining, and we laughed again.
Like many heroines, 13-year-old Lark Harnish has big problem: grief after the death of her father, serious family debt, a daunting new job and an unwelcoming employer. It’s 1919 when she arrives in the village of Upper Springdale in rural Nova Scotia to work as a domestic servant for the McMaster family who run a horse farm. She’s full of nerves but also full of hope and determination, and immediately she tries to befriend the family. She finds the two youngest children shy and the oldest mean. Their grandmother, who runs the house as well as a local post office, is short-tempered and none too impressed by flighty Lark.
Lark tries to be a good worker and to win over the family who are also mourning a death in the family, but her irrepressible spirit is always landing her in hot water. At first, all of her efforts come up short: she drops a tea tray full of china, lets the clothesline fall in the dirt and drops the good bucket in the well. Lark is a joker and a dreamer though, and none of her failures bother her, other than the prospect of losing her chance to help her family. She’s doesn’t take orders well, but she is resourceful and brave, taking charge during a fire just before she was to be sent home in disgrace. Lark will never be the quiet, prim servant the family was expecting, but she was exactly what they needed.
The strength of the book lies in Lark and her relationships to others. She is a young optimist, full of love and good intentions. It is impossible not to like and root for her. She has a way with people and children in particular as she has close relationships with her own siblings. Little George and Martha are the first to come under her spell, and she is determined to allow them a childhood that includes play and joy. She must work much harder to win over Sylvie who has become a snob and a liar. Lark also makes friends among the hired men who work with the horses. She has a particular love for animals, and it a horse who provides affection and to whom she confides her troubles. Her most challenging relationship is with Mrs. McMaster; the two are always sparring as they try to find common ground. Once the initial scene is set, the plot is primarily a road to resolve the various obstacles between Lark and the members of the McMaster family. Lark navigates each relationship with a great deal of tact and emotional intelligence.
The world portrayed is very small, mostly confined to the house. This is appropriate given that many women were confined to the domestic sphere in this period; however, the house is not as atmospheric a setting as it could have been. We find out little about the farm, the town, Lark’s home town, or the countryside in between. The few times Lark does venture outside— to befriend Charley the horse, to help bring in the hay, to put out a fire — are some of the most vivid scenes. There is little sense of social or cultural milieu other than Mrs. McMaster’s concern about local gossip. Readers don’t get a strong sense of place or learn much about history or get an idea of what it was like to be a child at this time. Nor do we get that much of a sense of Lark’s family. Her mother seems like an interesting person, but we get only a few hints of her story, even when Lark goes home for a Christmas visit.
Lark comes from a working class family, one which can be sent into crisis by the death of the breadwinner. Author Laura Best provides little context for the class divides which separated people like Lark from her employers. Ignoring this issue might be understandable in books written decades ago, but it feels like a notable omission at this time. There is no reflection on the inequity that allows the young McMaster girls to live in comfort and attend school while Lark must do hard physical labour to help support her family. Lark reflects that she is sorry to leave school, but that her beloved father had no education and so she, too, can have a happy, productive life. Neither does the book deal with the particular challenges affecting girls and women in the period. Some small recognition that the system is unfair and unnecessary would give more relevance to the book and provide more to talk about.
This is It, Lark Harnish might sound similar to the exploits of a legendary and beloved heroine from the Maritimes. This historical novel, though, is no Anne of Green Gables, never capturing the magic or animism of Anne or of Avonlea. This is more a slight book, a fairly predictable story about a grumpy family who finally accept the spirit of a young girl. But Lark will never have the opportunities that Anne had as she is a paid servant without education. The book relies on creating a likeable heroine to carry it through, and Lark’s spirit and joie de vivre do provide entertainment and a positive role model.
Kris Rothstein is a children’s book agent, editor and cultural critic in Vancouver, British Columbia.