The foundation for this pseudobiographical fiction is a monthly Field & Stream
column Corey Ford wrote in the 1950s and '60s about life in the pseudonymous town of Hardscrabble. Morrow, a resident of the same town, dusts off Ford's long-abandoned idea and is "picking up where he left off, that's all." The result is a warm, sentimental portrait of a pastoral New England village and its eccentric citizens. Founded in 1630, the hamlet of Hardscrabble is home to law-abiding, church-going folk—623 of them. Morrow recounts her and husband Kip's move from Long Island to Hardscrabble after Kip inherits a centuries-old house complete with drafty windows, a leaky ceiling and nosy (but helpful) neighbors. After Morrow bears a son, she goes to work writing an events column for the local paper, replacing town gossip Doris Almy. When Doris returns unexpectedly, Morrow relinquishes her byline, opting to write stories about the town and its people instead. What follows is a loose collection of misadventures, ranging from the heroic acts of canines to the official embarrassment of a naked senator. Decorated with pencil sketches, each chapter overflows with the rustic charm of Old Home Week Parades and grouse hunting (there's even a final chapter of recipes). Though the collective effect becomes a bit mawkish, Morrow's prose demonstrates a sweet fondness for her hometown and its quirky, Rockwellian characters. Readers waiting for any kind of exhilarating plot twist (or plot, for that matter) should look elsewhere. The calamity of natural deaths, frozen pipes and courtroom politics is about as perilous as it gets in Hardscrabble, and that's just what Morrow and her predecessor Ford seem to have had in mind. (May)
Forecast:Readers of
Yankee magazine are the natural audience for this novel, and New England bookstores should stock up.
