The name is Julia Ward Howe Hoffman and it belongs to a candid diary-keeper of thirteen who lives on the Nebraska prairie when it's 1901. Her whimsy is sometimes quaint and sometimes ridiculous (when she writes Papa's German accent of) but always emphatically the precocious-innocent work of a charmer striving to be poetic which she is both accidentally and on purpose. Though two years is a long time for just an everyday chronicle Julia's never falls apart: it's filled with ""unfortunatenesses"" and dreams and astutely observant chirpings about her picaresque family that encounters ""tribulations"" and the Glory of God in equal parts. There are half-sisters Eve and Polly, with too many ""beaux"" and a wart respectively, a proper-English warm wonderful clergyman's-daughter mother, some assorted brothers and hired hands and relations from Back East, school friends and town friends and of course Papa, who truly twinkling is. ""Imagination is what one needs in poetry,"" and imaginative is Julia's journal, besides refreshing as would say parents (who are ""very lasting""). And glad she had such a name to live up to will be the girls who get to enjoy the flukes of her labor.