Wide as the Sky: A Historical Novel

Who are you?

Jacquie Clarke

What is your project?

I’m dedicating my first historical novel to my great-great-grandmother, Malinda. She was aged 51 in 1905, when they immigrated to Canada as a farming family. Imagining what a woman’s life might have been like and what could have happened, I created a fictional woman’s story about what was important, what our foremothers might have wanted us to know, five generations later. The research on where my family came from, and the reflection on what it was like for women in the past, has shaped me into who I am now. The novel is called “Wide as the Sky” and explores a woman’s awakening as she embraces her new world.

Can we see some photos?

Jacquie Clarke’s first novel, Wide as the Sky, showing work in progress

A link to your work:

On this Substack page, https://accompanied.substack.com/ 1

I’ve begun to promote the novel by discussing the back story to why I wrote this historical novel. Monthly articles will lead up to the release of the printed book this summer.

A preview, snippet, or glimpse of your work in progress:

Elsewhere

“Malinda, James and I have decided to farm in Canada.” Davis announced at supper. It was the summer of 1903, and there were town meetings monthly promoting the bountiful land as the Canadian frontier opened up. “Civilization is encroaching here in Illinois. With all this fuss over the railroads, I say, we take advantage of the trains, and head to the frontier.”

Malinda paused at the stove. Davis had a don’t mess with my decision tone, so this was not the time for her to ask questions. Her heart pounding, she focused on serving the men their meal. Silently.

The moment passed. Davis, and their son James, resumed the discussion about the presentation at the latest Charles Williams meeting the previous evening. Williams was a promoter, a sales person to the core. He had made a fortune with the American frontier decades ago, and now that Canada was accessible with the railways, he was on a continuous circuit, including their town of Maycomb, Illinois. The joke was that Buffalo Bill had already taken the show name Wild West, otherwise it might have been Buffalo Chuck. Charles would always confront the man who tried to compare his presentations to the Wild West Show by saying he was about business, not entertainment. If you were in business with Charles Williams, he told you to call him C.W. If you were not part of his inner circle, he insisted you call him Mr. Williams.

James, like other young men, seeking to make it on their own, wished for the privilege to call him C.W. But Davis wasn’t having any of it. They had their own pride, and wealth. The Robinsons did not want to be Mr. Williams renters, beholden to him as a landlord. Davis could see through Williams’ showmanship, and he respected the man, but he counselled James and his friends to keep a distance.

A knock at the door brought in Myrtle and her husband, Munroe, Munroe’s brother Jim, and a few of the other local men. Myrtle went to the kitchen to help her mother put away the dishes. The men gathered around the front step, a few lighting up their pipes. There were more and more informal gatherings happening after the Williams meetings, especially with the long summer nights. The crops were in, and although there were always chores to do, the men wanted to talk this through. Davis, as always was the farmer that could see both sides and so the men from both sides – those who wanted to align with Williams, and those who were against – eventually made their way to the Robinson’s front porch.

… [and a later except]

Lay of the Land

I scanned the horizon, looking east towards the rails. When I had first arrived by train, we drove the wagon over the creek where it was most shallow, to the north of the farm. This spot where I had made our watering hole was the most direct and almost exactly due east of the farm, and about a third the distance to the tracks. We had made a makeshift east-west trail with the wagon and the horses, going past the Karlson farm. By horseback, I could cross the creek and continue to the rails, but if Davis needed to load the wagon, we would use the north route.

Surveyors had put markers in the grass to show the boundaries of the farms. Tall metal pins, just barely higher than the grass. For a moment, I wondered how they had measured. Davis talked of the maps at the C.W. Williams presentations back home in Illinois. There were drawings showing each square of land that Williams owned, some were shaded to represent rental land, and different colors to show the available lands for others to buy and claim.

Each time I rode my horse toward the railroad, I wondered who would arrive next. When were the others coming? Who would they be?

It is strange to be so alone here.

So far away from anything.

What will you ship at the end of 6 months?

In the summer of 2024, I will print a limited run of the historical novel “Wide as the Sky” – the intended audience for this first release is my family and community…