The Dusty Bookcase: Wild Wild Geese

20 October 2025

Wild Wild Geese

Wild Geese
Martha Ostenso
New York: Dodd, Mead. 1925

pages

The winner of the inaugural $13,500 Dodd-Mead-Famous-Players-Pictorial Review Prize, Wild Geese was a sensation. Consider this from my book's copyright page:

There were many, many more printings to come.

In 2009, the year the Dusty Bookcase began, I would not have considered Wild Geese eligible for inclusion. Wild Geese was neither neglected nor forgotten.

It is now.

Look no further than the late New Canadian Library for evidence. An early addition – #18! – the novel was something of an NCL staple. Today, aging copies printed in 2008 await purchase in Penguin Random House's Ontario warehouse.

The 1961 first NCL edition (left); the 2008 final NCL edition (right).

Wild Geese was not on the syllabi of my Canadian Literature courses. I felt I'd dodged a bullet. A young man living in cosmopolitan Montreal, I had no interest in stories of struggling farming families on the prairies.

Wild Geese is a story of a struggling farming family on the prairies. Caleb Gare is the patriarch. Hardworking, cold, cruel, and miserly, he is a character we've seen before. Angela is Caleb's cowed wife. Drained of all joy, she too is familiar. Caleb keeps their four children close, but not to his heart. He sees them as little but unpaid labour and is ever ready in smothering all aspirations and dreams in order to keep them on the farm. None have ventured farther than ten miles, except to bring cattle to Nykerk, a larger small town than nearby Yellow Post. Caleb does not allow his wife and children to attend services in the Yellow Post church. He brings home sermons which he alters to serve his purpose.

Twenty-year-old twins Martin and Ellen are the eldest and so have suffered the longest. Martin shares his father's dedication to farming, but nothing more. When not attending to the crops and livestock, he works at improving the various outbuildings. Martin has been salvaging wood and fragments of old windows with the hope of one day constructing a proper home for the family. Ellen is broken. Her blurred world comes through second-hand glasses as she stumbles about doing daily chores all the while thinking of Malcolm, a boy who once kissed her. Charlie, by far the youngest of the four Gare children, is something of a ghost. As a character, he barely exists, yet is Caleb's favourite. Between the twins and Charlie stands Judith. Caleb Gare considers this daughter during a late night survey of his land:

Caleb lifted the lantern and examined the wick. Things would turn out to his liking. He would hold the whip hand. Judith, yes, she was a problem. She had some of his own will, and she hated the soil . . . was beginning to think she was meant for other things . . . getting high notions, was Judith. She would have to be broken. She owed him something . . . owed the soil something. The twins, they would stay—no fear of their deserting. Martin and Ellen would not dare to leave; there was no other place for them. And Amelia, she was easy . . . yes, yes, she was easy, Amelia was!

Caleb's hold on Amelia has to do with a secret.

As a young man Caleb had pursued Amelia only to place a distant second to Des Jordan. Tragically, Jordan's life was soon cut short by a bull. Unmarried Amelia gave birth to a son who was handed over to Catholic priests. How Amelia ended up Caleb's wife is left up to the imagination. I expect her family's extreme poverty had something to do with the marriage..

Only Caleb about the child. For over two decades he has used this knowledge to render Amelia subservient. She is ever fearful that exposure will bring her disgrace and forever tar her other four children.

Twenty-four-year-old Martha Ostenso
Canadian Singers and Their Songs
Edward S. Caswell, ed.
Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 1925

Into this toxic household comes Lind Archer, the new schoolteacher. She will be lodging with the Gares as their home is one of the closest to the school (but really because Caleb, a trustee, will be getting money from the school board). Martin and Emily avert their eyes during Miss Archer's first meal in the Gare home, but not Judith; she is intrigued. Later in the evening, circumstance forces Judith to share her bed with the new teacher:

She watched Lind taking off her trim outer clothing. When she saw that she wore dainty silk underthings she glanced at her more covertly. She made no comment.
After both girls had undressed, Judith picked up a string of amber beads Lind had placed on the stand near the bed.
There was also a pair of ear rings of the same limpid yellow substance.
“Wild honey! Drops of wild honey!” Judith exclaimed in a whisper. “Just the color of you!”

The arrival of pretty young Miss Archer, her jewelry, tailored clothing, and dainty dainties provide a glimpse of a world quite unlike her own. In an early scene, Judith removes her rough work clothes and lies naked beside a pond. Thought turn from her father, the teacher, neighbour hunky Sven Sandbro, then back to her father:

Oh, how knowing the bare earth was, as if it might have a heart and a mind hidden here in the woods. The fields that Caleb had tilled had no tenderness, she knew. But here was something forbiddenly beautiful, secret as one’s own body. And there was something beyond this. She could feel it in the freeness of the air, in the depth of the earth. Under her body there were, she had been taught, eight thousand miles of earth. On the other side, what? Above her body there were leagues and leagues of air, leading like wings—to what? The marvelous confusion and complexity of all the world had singled her out from the rest of the Gares. She was no longer one of them. Lind Archer had come and her delicate fingers had sprung a secret lock in Jude’s being. She had opened like a tight bud. There was no going back now into the darkness.
Sven Sandbo, he would be home in May, so they said. Was it Sven she wanted, now that she was so strangely free? Judith looked straight above her through the network of white birch and saw the bulbous white country that a cloud made against the blue. Something beyond Sven, perhaps . . . Freedom, freedom. She dipped her blistered hands down into the clear topaz of the pool, lifted them and dipped them and lifted them, letting the drops slip off the tips of her fingers each time like tiny cups of light. She thought of the Teacher, of her dainty hands and her soft, laughing eyes . . . she came from another life, another world. She would go back there again. Her hands would never be maps of blisters as Jude’s were now, from tugging a calf out of a mud-hole. Jude hid her hands behind her and pressed her breast against the cold ground. Hard, senseless sobs rose in her throat, and her eyes smarted with tears. She was ugly beyond all bearing, and all her life was ugly. Suddenly she was bursting with hatred of Caleb. Her large, strong body lay rigid on the ground, and was suddenly unnatural in that earthy place. Then she relaxed and wept like a woman. . . .

Given the year of publication, it's unsurprising that the homoerotic elements of the novel were not identified by reviewers. They were most certainly not acknowledged decades later in Carlyle King's remarjably inept 1961 New Canadian Library introduction.

In a later passage, Lind admires Judith in turn:

Lind thought how wildly beautiful she looked in the unnatural glamour: the able grace of her tall young body; her defiant shoulders over which her black hair now fell; the proud slope of her throat and breast.

This is likely he most homoerotic passage in Canadian literature up to 1925:

Afterwards Judith came up to Lind in the loft and sat down on the bed, watching the Teacher wash her face and neck and long smooth arms with a fragrant soap. Lind turned and surprised a peculiar look in the girl’s eyes. Judith grew red and leaned back on the pillows.
“It makes my mouth water to watch you do that,” she said. “It’s so—oh, I don’t know what it is—just as if somebody’s stroking my skin."
“Why don’t you use this soap, Judith? I have lots of it. I’ve told you so many times to use anything of mine you like. Next time you expect to meet Sven—” Lind lowered her voice and smiled roguishly at Jude—“let me fix you all up, will you? Nice smelling powder and a tiny drop of perfume in your hair. He’ll die of delight, Judie! Just die.”
Judith chuckled and ran her hands over her round breasts.
“It doesn’t take perfume to kill him,” she murmured.
Lind looked at her, stretched full length across the bed. What a beautiful, challenging body she had! With a terrible beginning of consciousness, like a splendid she-animal, nearly grown.
“Let me comb your hair, Lind, will you?” Jude asked.
The Teacher sat down on the floor beside the bed and Judith loosened the long skeins of bronze hair that fell all about her shoulders. Judith loved to run her fingers through it, and to gather it up in a shining coil above the white nape of Lind’s neck. Lind talked to her about things of the outer world, as she often did when they could be alone together. But presently Ellen’s voice came up from below, the thin, usual protest. Judith fastened Lind’s hair up with a single pin and left her. Lind thought that her step was a little lighter than it had been.

Far more erotic than anything in 1928's The Well of Loneliness, is it not?

I don't mean to suggest that Wild Geese be categorized a lesbian novel. Nothing should be so rigidly defined.

This straight cis male saw Judith's attraction toward "the Teacher" as something other. In Lind, overall-wearing farm girl Judith sees the fantastic. It isn't that she wants to be with Lind, rather that she wants to be like Lind or perhaps wants to be Lind.

Both young women have romantic relationships with men. Judith and Sven's begins in the backstory; Lind's is with...

I'm hesitating...

Lind's is with Mark Jordan, the son Amelia had with Del Jordan. I'm sharing this only because it is revealed early on.

This can't be considered a spoiler, right?

It's interesting that Lind is so often referred to as "the Teacher." I don't believe she has a great deal of influence on the events that lead to the climax, though her "dainty hands" push gently toward the inevitable. From the first page, a dark cloud hangs over the Gare farmland. Caleb is calculating, manipulative, and cruel, crossing and at times threatening his neighbours.

He will reep what he sows. The day of reconning is coming.

Ten months ago, I posted a list of what I considered the best Canadian novels of the 1920s. I listed nine because I'd not yet read Barney Allen's They Have Bodies and The Magpie by Douglas Durkin, Ostenso's future husband.

Still haven't.

In any case, I was certain that one would make it an even ten.

Martha Ostenso beat them to it.

Wild Geese is easily one of the ten best Canadian novels of the 1920s.

Trivia I: Wild Geese bested over 1500 other submissions to win the Dodd-Mead-Famous-Players-Pictorial Review Prize. The US$13,500 awarded Martha Ostenso in 1925 is the equivalent of roughly US$240,000 today.

Trivia II: Wild Geese has enjoyed no less than three movie adaptations, the earliest being the 1927 lost silent film of the same name. The most intriguing is the second, Ruf der Wildgänse (1961), which IMDb claims is the first Austrian movie to be filmed almost entirely in Canada.

I don't doubt it.

The novel was last adapted in 2001, as the made for Canadian made for TV movie After the Harvest starring Sam Sheppard.

Object: An attractive hardcover in printed boards, I really like the endpapers:

I purchased my jacketless copy for roughly fifteen years ago. I can't quite remember where, but I do recall paying one dollar.

Access: The novel first appeared in the August and September 1925 numbers of Pictorial Review.

That autumn, Wild Geese was published in hardcover by McClelland & Stewart (Canada) and Dodd Mead (United States). Hodder & Stoughton's British edition appeared as The Passionate Flight, the novel's working title.

Wild Geese is still available Penguin Random House, but there's no need to give Bertelsmann SE & Co KGaA any more of your money; plenty of used copies are listed online at prices ranging from C$4.00 (the 1989 NCL edition) to £77.00 (first UK edition, sans jacket). The best buy is a copy of the 1925 McClelland & Stewart first Canadian edition, avec jacket, at $13.00.

In Canada, the novel entered the public domain in 2014. It can be read here – gratis – through the wonderful faded page.

There have been several translations: Norwegian (Graagass), German (Ruf der Wildgänse), Danish (Vildgæs), Spanish (Almas sometidas), Polish (Krzyk dzikich gęsi), and Slovinian (Klic divjih gosi),

I read Wild Geese for the 1925 Club, the tenth anniversary club of clubs dedicated to reading and reviewing books published in a specific year.

Remarkably, of the 43 books from 1920s that have been covered on this blog over the years, Wild Geese is only is only the second to have been published in 1925. The other is: