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Homestead

Rosina Lippi

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May 21, 2010 Daisy rated it really liked it

Shelves: mushrooms, austria, aroundtheworld2012

I am worried about this, but there's nothing to do but try. Simple and worth remembering.

This is a lovely novel of connected stories that spans from the early 20th century to the late 1970s in a remote valley of western Austria. The women are strong and wistful and tragic and heartening. To me, it's full of beautiful truths.

A farmer's wife is as good as her cheese; her cheese can be no better than her rennet. Many other failings may stay hid throughout the years: she can feed unrisen bread to th I am worried about this, but there's nothing to do but try. Simple and worth remembering.

This is a lovely novel of connected stories that spans from the early 20th century to the late 1970s in a remote valley of western Austria. The women are strong and wistful and tragic and heartening. To me, it's full of beautiful truths.

A farmer's wife is as good as her cheese; her cheese can be no better than her rennet. Many other failings may stay hid throughout the years: she can feed unrisen bread to the sow and cut up the misbegotten needlework for cleaning rags and bury children her womb refuses to nourish in the dark corners of the garden. Her husband will never be the wiser, if she does not tell him. It is easy to feed him in silence, at the kitchen table and even in his own bed: he may suspect, but what can he know?
But there is no place for a woman to hide her cheese.
He will take it from the press to put it before her, and it will tell its own tale: poor of grain, and the rennet was weak; too tough, and the curd was broke too soon; too soft the whey was not pressed clean out; hoven, the curd underworked; dry, too much of the cream skimmed off; studded with a single hair, and there is no excuse or explanation. Our faults--impatience, laziness, greed, sloth--all come to the light in the round disks of pale gold, in the cool damp dimness of the cheese cellar. Where you face your imperfections, with a man as witness who is first a farmer and maybe, sometime else, a husband.

The sexton was in the grave up to his hips. As he worked, briefly displacing those people from their resting place, pausing to stack larger bones neatly by the edge of the hole, I was struck by the thought that those bones and scraps of clothing had been jumbled through by each new burial; every time one of their own came to join them, the dead jostled together not just to make room but to change their view, like children scurrying for good seats at the table, wanting to be close to the cookstove or far away from a father's sharp eye, wanting a chance to look out the window into the bright sun or rain or snow.
And suddenly all my anger was gone. I imagined Mama at that table, a young girl again, surrounded by people who welcomed her and were pleased that she had come.

How strange, Lili thought, but she didn't trust Jos enough to say it aloud, not yet: how strange some folks won't rest quiet in their graves and others can turn their backs on the living.

Stopfar: White cornmeal fried in butterfat, eaten from a communal frying pan, usually by dipping each spoonful into a cup of milk or coffee. A common breakfast food but sometimes eaten in the evening also.
That sounds good. ...more

3 likes · Like · see review

Jul 11, 2012 Laura marked it as to-read

Shelves: pulitzerandrunnersupandmore, hf

Mar 23, 2018 Juliana Philippa marked it as to-read

Shelves: 0-own, 0-own-in-dead-tree-form, 0-own-avg-rating-3-point-8-plus, 0-own-in-dead-tree-form-paperback

Apr 01, 2019 Janet marked it as to-read

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