Children were not separated from adults and regularly taught in an organized way. They learned by observation and trial of adult activities, for the most part. Young children were with a caring adult most of the time, until they showed a desire to explore on their own, and whenever they expressed a desire to explore on their own, and whenever they expressed a desire to try something, they were usually given a tool and shown how. Sometimes they'd find their own tool and try to copy someone. If they really showed an aptitude or desire, child0size versions might be made for them but they weren't toys so much as smaller-size fully functional tools.
...
Community activities always included children. They were all encouraged to join in on the dancing an d singing that were a part of various festivals, and some became quite good and were encouraged. Mental concepts like counting words were usually picked up incidentally, through storytelling, games, and conversation, although one or more of the Zelandonia would occasionally take a group of children off to explain or show some particular concept or activity.
From The Land of Painted Caves, by Jean M. Auel
Learning from life. There is no better description of this philosophy of education than above, and there will always be people who disagree, or who would argue that our times have changed so drastically since those days of prehistory that such learning is no longer possible, but when I read this passage from Auel's new book I marked it and had to go back and reread it. It was a like a mantra.
It was also the only really good part of her new book. I should have known that after such a long wait nothing could live up to expectations. Beginning in the very first chapter it is clear that the author has lost touch with her characters. They aren't as rich and well drawn in this book as in her previous ones. I wondered if that was part of the plan, since some of the story deals with difficulties in their relationship, but since it picks up right about where the last one left off, the change is sudden and doesn't feel like a natural one.
The book also suffers from increasing long-windedness. This was not unenjoyable in earlier books, when she was describing the landscape as our heroes traveled from place to place, but in Painted Caves we spend the entire middle section (the second of three) touring caves with them, and this is not a case of "no two caves are alike". Monotony and repetition. Monotony and repetition. We spend 25 pages touring one cave, at the end of which I was skipping paragraph upon paragraph of descriptions of strange animal representations and images of female genitalia.
Editing, or lack thereof, is another problem. Repetition has always been Auel's style, but in the past it was part of natural flow in the story while here it seems like a way to fill up pages and make the story seem thicker. As time passes I would expect our characters and the story to dwell less on the past, recapping less of the previous books, but we never get such a reprieve. And some of her "in-book" repetition ends up being contradictory. At one point in the middle of the first section our heroes come up with a seemingly brand new ingenious idea, which would be fine if they hadn't already discussed it at the beginning, and then at the end of the section the concept is revisited again as if it has already been worked out at a point before their second brainstorm. That lack of continuity happens more than once, but it isn't nearly as disruptive as the feeling that Ayla, our heroin, continues to be a source of surprise, and sometimes angst, to the people of her mate's cave. Even in the final section, after she has lived with them for six years, and even to her mentor of as many years. Really, they have to know her by now.
Part three of the book, the final section, is its saving grace. While it still feels contrived and disjointed, and while the characters are still missing the depth of personality we've been treated to in past books, there is at least somewhat of a return to a focus on social interaction. There is a strange feeling, though, when, now six years later, some story threads from the fifth book are picked up as though no time passed at all. This was okay with me—they are familiar and comfortable threads—but really they are out of place.
I didn't hate the book, but honestly if I hadn't read any of the first five I think I would have. The only thing that kept me engaged throughout was my previous attachment to the characters themselves. And if I read it again I might just skip the middle section. This is supposedly the last book for the series, but Auel leaves a door wide open at the end, and as our people begin dealing with the first flushes of monogamy she hints at a possible major twist. That's as close as I'll come to giving anything away, but I wouldn't be surprised if there was a sequel at some point. I think she's threatened never to write again before anyhow.
Book 8 on my way to 52 in 2011
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