You know what, good for Rose honestly. I didn't really get this book as a kid, but I get it now. This is a classic new adult book about a young woman leaving home and trying to make a life for herself.
For the first half of this book, Rose struggles to make enough to survive, just like her ancestors. Eventually, she actually starts to make good money, and she gets a bit nihilistic. Her life has always revolved around her family, so it's no surprise that she's so desperate to start one with Paul. She doesn't know how to focus on her own wants and needs.
I can't believe people are still saying she should have married Paul. If anything, it was annoying how the authors went out of their way to make it obvious that he was anti-feminism, and that Rose was always afraid to tell him what was really on her mind, lest she spoil their one day a year together, and that he wasn't being upfront with her about his plans for the future. Yes, they played together when they were kids, but they were long distance for seven years. Paul was a handsome boy that she had a crush on, around whom she built up a bunch of adolescent fantasies.
Was Gillette a worthy alternative? No, he was a guy she'd just met. But it's not like she got engaged to him immediately. Besides, I wouldn't have wanted a book about Rose fighting to gain her independence to end with a sweet little wedding like in These Happy Golden Years. It wasn't about Gil, it was about her realizing she should go out and dance and drink and flirt and enjoy being young. Oh, and have a career.
Bachelor Girl is a fitting end to this sprawling literary universe. For five generations, we readers watch this family caught between survival and adventure. They go from nobility in Scotland, to middle class blacksmiths in Boston, to farmers, to homeless farmers, to debt-ridden delivery wagon drivers. Every one of our heroines, no matter how spunky they were as little girls, ended up married to some impulsive guy with a dream that eclipsed theirs. Oh, Martha, things will be better in America, Charlotte, let's leave the city and be farmers so I can die at sea and leave you widowed with six kids, Caroline, these woods are getting too crowded, better drag the family away from all their aunts and uncles so we can illegally squat in Indian Territory, Laura, there's no droughts in the Land of the Big Red Apple, let's go. And for decades we watch their crops get eaten up by grasshoppers and blackbirds, and burnt up in prairie fires, and hailed on, and frozen by blizzards, and so on. Caroline never wanted to go west, but she did it for Charles. Laura begged Almanzo to quit farming, so he compromised and kept being a farmer anyway, until they were too deep in debt to get out.
And then there's Rose. Maybe she got into telegraphy because of a boy. But by the end of the books, she's dreaming for herself. She doesn't marry a childhood neighbor and have four to six children and scold them when they make too much noise on the Sabbath. Instead, she *gasp*, starts wearing makeup and drinking lemon sours and hanging out with people who are not perfect. She managed to break the endless cycle of delusion and self-sacrifice that is the pioneer woman's life. As much as I enjoyed reading about the struggles of virtuous farm girls in these books, I don't blame Rose for wanting more out of life, and I'm glad she got it.