[ Previous ] [ Next ]

[published by Appleton-Century-Crofts, Inc.; 1955]

The Long March was published at around the same time that Walt Disney produced The Swamp Fox, and they have a great deal in common. They both have a light, for-the-family tone. They both take a number of historical facts and weave them into an overall story that feels like it's taking place in the 1950s rather than the 1780s. And they're both a lot of fun. When this book was recommended to me, I found it hard to believe I'd enjoy a ridiculously romanticized and idealized portrayal of Dan Morgan, but I do. They're not quite Ward and June Cleaver dressed in RevWar garb, but the Dan and Abby Morgan of Barry's imagination aren't that far off it. (I don't wish to continue this analogy, lest I end up with Billy Washington as the Beaver.) It's hard not to like most of the rebel cast, historical and original, because they're all such nice folks.

Banastre Tarleton is mentioned throughout the whole book, and even gets a decent amount of screen time. Barry tries very hard to make him rotten, low-down scum, but her airy, upbeat writing style just isn't up to the task. Plus, she keeps everything so thoroughly G-rated that he isn't even allowed to pronounce a decent threat, far less carry through with it. One of the female protagonists -- who is working as a spy for Morgan -- is repeatedly warned about the horrid fate that awaits her if she falls into Tarleton's clutches, but then when she does, Ban simply snarls at her a little and sends her on her way. All in all, he isn't quite nice, but he gets closer to it than I'm sure the author intended. About the worst thing Barry manages is to give him bad teeth. The result is an odd, quirky interpretation that is quite engaging at times and quite funny at others. I must admit that this has become one of my favorite Tarleton appearances in fiction, though for all the wrong reasons.

Objectively, this is not a good book. As historical fiction, it suffers from the common problem of getting the mechanical details (such as who was where, and when) close to the mark while totally failing to achieve any sense of taking place in the 18th century. The storytelling is typical for young-adult fiction from the 1950s, and the prose style is thoroughly overblown and melodramatic. But despite its flaws, it really is an amusing little book. I recommend it to anyone with an embarrassing fondness for The Swamp Fox.