Gilded Mountain
In Gilded Mountain, Manning tackles a variety of societal ills, including the plight of laborers in the Western mines, the racist aftermath of the Civil War, and the limited choices for women—all from the point of view of a thoroughly engaging character: the smart, painfully shy, and dirt-poor Sylvie Pelletier.
In 1907, Sylvie, whose father works in a marble quarry, leaves her family to make her way in the world. Because of her fluency in French, the quarry owner’s wife hires her as a secretary. Just when you think this is going to be a “poor girl makes good” story, Sylvie rejects the easy path. Instead, she joins forces with a tough-talking newspaper publisher who refuses to let gender hold her back from speaking truth to power. All the while, two suitors vie for Sylvie’s affections: the son of her wealthy employers and a hardscrabble union man. One will give her money; the other offers a life of love and hardship.
The story of the battles between labor and the wealthy industrialists during the early 20th century is one we don’t hear enough. The inclusion of the rabble-rousing Mother Jones in the plotline is a bonus. Manning writes, “You could put her in a teacup, the woman was that small. A gust would take her, sail her up into the cumulus. Her hair was a white fluff of milkweed silk.”
I adored this book for three reasons: the exquisite language, the organic twists and turns of the plot, and the riveting, brutal history of union organizing in the early 20th century. The latter part of the book romps rather quickly through the years, but by that time the narrator has thoroughly seduced us with such fresh and vivid observations that we willingly follow her to the surprising conclusion.
