Cuyahoga by Pete Beatty

Published by Scribner on October 6, 2020

Cuyahoga revives a tradition of American storytelling: the tall tale. Impossible deeds and thrilling contests. Remember Paul Bunyan digging the Grand Canyon with his axe and eating more pancakes than the other contestants combined? Big Son is the new Paul Bunyan.

Cuyahoga is the story of two brothers, Big Son and Medium (“Meed”) Son, but Big is the character of legend. Unlike Paul Bunyan, Big has no ox, although a well-loved ox named Asa plays a role in the story. Like Paul Bunyan and John Henry and Davy Crockett, Big’s improbable deeds remind us of a time when the American frontier was wild and untamed, a time when Americans looked to wild and untamed characters for inspiration.

Big helped settle the land that lies to the west of Cleveland, across the Cuyahoga. “The first settlers found the place full of discouragements, such as mosquitoes, ague and poorly behaved wildlife wanting chastisement.” Big cleared the forest in record time and used the timber to build the houses that became Ohio City. When a lake objected to the settlement with storms and shipwrecks, Big brawled the lake and taught it a lesson. Tales come no taller than those that are told about Big Son.

Meed narrates Cuyahoga, telling us early in the novel that the stories of Big are “mostly” true, “simple and moral, easy to grab, the better to encourage someone over the head with.” Meed assembles tall tales about Big into an almanac that satisfies the American thirst for exaggeration. Yet the almanac doesn’t tell the whole story. Meed feels brotherly love for Big but — drawing on another book of tall tales — Meed also tells a Cain and Abel story of resentment.

Big and Meed both feel a desire for Cloe Inches, but Cloe has a tendency to run off when pressure begins to build. Perhaps she represents the first stirring of women’s liberation, or simply the American desire for freedom. Being chained to a life of domesticity clearly isn’t for Cloe. Although Cloe tells a competing suitor where her heart lies, adventure seems to be her heart’s true yearning.

The conflict that drives the plot splits the residents of Cleveland and the newer Ohio City: how many bridges, if any, should span the Cuyahoga to connect the old and new cities? When Cleveland builds a bridge, it charges Ohio City residents a toll to go back home (and charges an extra penny for peanuts), so one bridge is not the answer. Some people think that blowing up that bridge is the answer; others think a second bridge would solve the problem. In 1937, a new solution arrives after the other alternatives fail.

A key theme of Cuyahoga is the American character. Meed tells us that it favors “motion above nearly everything else.” Hence the need for bridges and steamboats, the desire to keep expanding the nation, “to move toward every compass point, always.” Betting on chance, whether in “rastling” contests or by starting a business, is another component of the American character.

Uneducated eloquence describes the voice in which Cuyahoga is told. In part because of Pete Beatty’s ability to link words into unexpected sentences, Cuyahoga coaxes guffaws and belly laughs that break up a steady stream of chuckles and grins. I particularly enjoyed the dentist who treats teeth with creosote and tells patients not to smoke for a few hours, lest they set their mouths on fire.

Near the novel’s end, Big swims in a race against his rival’s steamboat, human strength versus machine power, one of the enduring themes of American folklore. Tall tales represent the spirit of America, the struggle to defeat long odds, to overcome formidable obstacles and achieve unattainable goals, to become the master of one's fate. While Cuyahoga gives a modern twist to the tall tale, Big Son is a worthy addition to the tradition of larger-than-life American folk heroes.

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