In Book II,
Chapter 6 of My Antonia, Jim, the young protagonist, is fighting against
the cold winter wind which has just overtaken the land. As he reflects,
“The pale, cold
light of the winter sunset did not beautify—it was like the light of truth
itself. When the smoky clouds hung low in the west and the red sun went down
behind them, leaving a pink flush on the snowy roofs and the blue drifts, then
the wind sprang up afresh, with a kind of bitter song, as if it said: “This is
reality, whether you like it or not. All those frivolities of summer, the light
and shadow, the living mask of green that trembled over everything, they were
lies, and this is what was underneath. This is the truth.” It was as if we were
being punished for loving the loveliness of summer.”
