without looking down on them from a higher perch like James Agee or Jacob Riis. His gritty realism is communal, expressing oneness with the subjects. The Hamlins, it seems, have more in common with the pioneers of the Oregon Trail than with a modern-day couple sleeping on rollout beds in Amarillo during the Internet age. Objects such as cowbells, oil stoves, flickering lamps, and orange-crate shelves speak of a bygone era when electricity hadnât yet made it to rural America. But whilethe atmosphere of House of Earth places the novel firmly in the Great Depression, the themes that Guthrie pondersâmisery, worry, tears, fun, and lonesomenessâare as old as human history. Guthrieâs aim is to remind readers that they are merely specks of dust in the long march forward from the days of the cavemen.
The Hamlins have a hard life in a flimsy wooden shack, yet exist with extreme (and emotionally fraught) vitality. The reader learns at the outset that their home is not up to the function of keeping out the elements. So Tike starts exasperatedly espousing the idealistic gospel of adobe. On the farm, life persists, and the reader is treated to an extended, earthy lovemaking scene. This intimate description serves a purpose: Guthrie elevates the biological act to a representation of Tike and Ella Mayâs oneness with the land, the farm, and each other. And yet, the land is not the Hamlinsâ to do with as they pleaseâand so the building of their adobe house remains painfully out of reach. The narrative then concerns itself with domestic interactions between Tike and Ella May. Despite their great energy and playfulness, dissatisfaction wells up in them. In the closing scenes, in which Ella May gives birth, we learn more about their financial woes and how tenant farmers lived on tenterhooks during the Great Depression when they had no property rights.
4
When the folklorist Alan Lomax read the first chapter of House of Earth (âDry Rosinâ), he was bowled over, amazed at how Guthrie expressed the emotions of the downtrodden with such realism and dignity. For months Lomax encouraged Guthrie to finish the book, saying that heâd âconsidered dropping everything I was doingâ just to sell the novel. âIt was quite simply,â Lomax wrote, âthe best material Iâd ever seen written about that section of the country.â House of Earth demonstrates that Guthrieâs social conscience is comparable to Steinbeckâs and that Guthrie, like D. H. Lawrence in Lady Chatterleyâs Lover , was willing to explore raw sexuality.
Guthrie apparently never showed Lomax the other three chapters of the novel: âTermites,â âAuction Block,â and âHammer Ring.â His hopes for House of Earth lay in Hollywood. He mailed the finished manuscript to the filmmaker Irving Lerner, who had worked on such socially conscious documentaries as One Third of a Nation (1939), Valley Town (1940), and The Land (1941). Guthrie hoped that Lerner would make the novel into a low-budget feature film. This never came to pass. The book languished in obscurity. Only quite recently, when the University of Tulsa started assembling a Woody Guthrie collection, did House of Earth reemerge into the light. The Lerner estate had found the treasure when organizing its own archives inLos Angeles. The manuscript and a cache of letters written by Guthrie and Lerner to each other were promptly shipped to Tulsaâs McFarlin Library for permanent housing. Coincidentally, while hunting down information about Bob Dylan for a Rolling Stone project, we stumbled on the novel. Like Lomax, we grew determined to have House of Earth published properly by a New York house, as Guthrie surely would have wanted.
The question has been asked: Why wasnât House of Earth published in the late 1940s? Why would Guthrie work so furiously on a novel and then let it die on the vine? There are a few possible answers.