The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon

The author’s notes at the end of this book were really worth reading. They helped me to forgive her for glamorizing the life of a midwife who lived through glacial winters in Maine in the 18^th century. She based the book on the diary kept by Martha Ballard, a literate midwife who noted the weather, her work and family and community matters in brief statements in a journal. She clearly admired this woman and wanted to tell her story in a way that would keep a modern reader (mainly middle-aged women) invested. I’m pretty sure the story would have interested me without the glam. It felt, at times, like she shuffled the pages of her book with a Harlequin romance novel. I mean, these were hard times. A moving body of water froze over for months, so we’re talking about living in dangerously cold temperatures for at least half the year with no electricity or HVAC systems. Martha married young and birthed nine children. She lost three to diphtheria. I can only imagine the hardships. To hear this author tell it though, their lives sound like something out of “Country Woman,” showcasing a lifestyle full of warm cider, tavern stews, candlemaking, and dreamy rural living. Furthermore, Martha and hot husband Ephraim are still randy as teenagers in their 50s and find opportunities to have quickies on his worktable in the mill. I’m not sure that a lifetime of birthing a child every other year and riding a horse regularly over rough terrain would leave Martha with hips that could make her want to straddle her husband on the wooden workbench. Just saying.

The author is very good at writing. Her sentences, her paragraphs, her dialogue, her inner dialogues—all are handled expertly. She would describe the terrain or a place in a way that really took me there, but wasn’t over explained. I really enjoyed the order of the book and how she titled chapters with locations and dates. It was beautifully organized and easy to follow when she hopped into the past and then back into the present day.

My essential issue was that I didn’t relate to anyone in this book. Martha is beyond reproach. Her actions, her intentions, her thoughts—all are noble and sensible and come from a place of truth and motherhood and love. I am too flawed to relate to a character like that. And for a story that feels like it’s about shining a light on a strong woman, Ephraim is portrayed as other-worldly and Martha’s admiration for him is like something out of a fairy tale. She fondles a scrap of paper that he’s written on, marveling at his perfect penmanship. He’s the voice of reason. He knows everything that she doesn’t. He’s credited for shaping her life, teaching her about physical love, teaching her to read. He’s never absent physically or emotionally. He’s always propping her up, soothing her with his touch or advice. He’s a dream. It’s too much. I want to meet the author’s husband and see if he’s a model for Ephraim…or a foil.

Meanwhile, the book was full of gratuitous moments where Martha gets the opportunity to say and do all of the things we often wish we could, but don’t because we couldn’t think on the spot or the right opportunity doesn’t present itself. Martha hits all of the things. And I mean ALL of them. And most of the other characters’ personalities were too solidly one thing or another and people aren’t like that. They have subtle shades of good and bad and a lot of gray. For example, there’s a young Harvard educated doctor in this story who thinks he can deliver some babies, but of course, he’s a complete disaster and Martha must school him. There’s no moment when she pauses and sees the good in someone who’s learned modern methods of medicine or what perspective a man might bring to obstetrics. It would be more interesting if she and the young doctor worked together and learned something new from each other. Instead, he’s on a killing spree, basically, leaving dead babies in his wake until Martha ends up saving his own wife and newborn child and then bans him from attending any other births in the town. It’s over the top.

The excellent writing style and author’s good intentions save this book, but I would not re-read it nor recommend it. Like The Nightingale, by Kristin Hannah, I can see why this book is popular, but it didn’t move me.