BETSY’S WEDDING

The last book in Maud Hart Lovelace’s Betsy-Tacy series, and the one least palatable to me as a child. It was always a comedown when my favorite characters got married (see: The First Four Years, Anne of Ingleside and its sequels, and Little Men/Jo’s Boys); they seemed to become markedly less interesting. Now that I’m older, however, adult pursuits don’t seem quite so boring, and even if the beloved characters lose a bit of their joie de vivre, I’m still fascinated by how their grown-up adventures reflect the values and customs of their historical eras.

Some parts of Betsy’s Wedding raised my modern feminist hackles; in the previous books, Betsy’s always been ambitious, but in this one the focus is largely on Joe’s career, and when offered a writing job she refuses it: “I already have a job...And it’s important, and very hard. It’s learning how to keep house” (although until she masters it, Joe does all the cooking, which is sort of rad, and when the U.S. finally joins WWI at the end of the book and Joe enlists, Betsy does finally take that job). Even worse, in the way of smug marrieds throughout history, Betsy and Tacy seem to have become so suddenly conservative that they’re aghast at independent-minded Tib’s swingin’ singlehood (“Tib will soon be earning so much money that she won’t meet many men who earn as much money as she does…And then she’ll start driving around in her car, and getting more and more independent, and she won’t marry at all, maybe! And then what will she do when she’s old?”) and hatch elaborate plans to get her safely married off as soon as possible (spoiler: she gets married).

Luckily, there’s a lot of good stuff here as well: Betsy and Joe’s relationship has realistic struggles but is sweet and equable, the descriptions of their cozy home are deeply satisfying, I loved the detailed Twin Cities references (picnics at Lake Harriet, sailing on Lake Calhoun, visits to Fort Snelling and Minnehaha Falls), the Ray family continues to be awesome (especially, surprisingly, Margaret), we find out what happened to old characters like Cab and Carney, and plenty of fun is had (I particularly enjoyed the Violent Study Club, a rather bohemian gathering of Joe’s newspaper colleagues—both male and female—“to talk writing, read aloud, argue, and drink coffee”). And the period details continue to amaze: When Betsy and Joe want to buy a house, they walk around the neighborhood until they find one for sale on the very street they want to live on, walk around the yard and decide it's perfect, walk down to the real estate agent’s office, and have the following conversation:

“Yes, young folks, that’s a good little house.”
“What does it sell for?” Joe asked.
“Four thousand, five hundred.”
“We could stand good monthly payments,” Joe said. “And we’re responsible people. I’m on the Courier. But we can’t pay much down.”
“Just three hundred dollars,” Betsy put in.
“I don’t believe…that the size of the down payment matters much in this case. The owners are old people, well fixed; going to California. I think it could be arranged.”
Joe looked at Betsy…“Did you bring the check book, honey?”
“Yes, dear.” She drew it out of her bag.
“Whoa!” said Mr. Munson. “I can’t show you that house today. I can’t get a key until tomorrow.”
“We looked in the windows,” Betsy explained politely.
“They might as well have our three hundred dollars, sir,” said Joe, taking out his pen.
“I won’t cash that check,” said Mr. Munson, “until you can look through the house. Of course, it’s all right. It really is. A good hot water furnace. Hardwood floors.”

And…that’s it. That’s apparently all you had to do to buy a nice three-bedroom house in 1915. Sigh.