I like interesting little snapshots of time like this. It's nothing mind-blowing, but it's a fun little look into a camp of Oregon loggers in the early half of the 20th century.
What sticks with me the most (besides the mention of the occasional horrific injury-- logging is brutal) was the character of "Indian Johnny", who, as you might imagine, was a Native guy (named Johnny). He was one of the many loggers mentioned, but he always seems to be the most fascinating: The most level-headed, the one always jumping forward to handle a crisis. And we never even learn what tribe he was from, because I suppose it didn't matter that much to Irma... or maybe she didn't think it would matter to her readers in the 1960s, when this book was released.
Despite this oversight, there's nothing in this book besides your run-of-the-mill period sexism that would make a modern reader uncomfortable. I think it's worth a read if you happen to find it on the back of a dusty library shelf the way I did.