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Though not as well-known as the writers she influenced, Sarah Orne Jewett nevertheless remains one of the most important American novelists of the late nineteenth century. Published in 1884, Jewett’s first novel, A Country Doctor, is a luminous portrayal of rural Maine and a semiautobiographical look at her world. In it, Nan’s struggle to choose between marriage and a career as a doctor, between the confining life of a small town and a self-directed one as a professional, mirrors Jewett’s own conflicts as well as eloquently giving voice to the leading women’s issues of her time. Perhaps even more important, Jewett’s perfect details about wild flowers and seaside wharfs, farm women knitting by the fireside and sailors going upriver to meet the moonlight, convey a realism that has seldom been surpassed and stamp her writing with her signature style. A contemporary and friend of Willa Cather, Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Julia Ward Howe, Sarah Orne Jewett is widely recognized as a pathfinder in American literary history, courageously pursuing a road less traveled that led the way for other women to follow.
- Sales Rank: #385542 in Books
- Brand: Bantam Classics
- Published on: 1999-04-06
- Released on: 1999-04-06
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 6.90" h x .80" w x 4.30" l, .33 pounds
- Binding: Mass Market Paperback
- 304 pages
Features
From the Inside Flap
Though not as well-known as the writers she influenced, Sarah Orne Jewett nevertheless remains one of the most important American novelists of the late nineteenth century.
Published in 1884, Jewett's first novel, A Country Doctor, is a luminous portrayal of rural Maine and a semiautobiographical look at her world. In it, Nan's struggle to choose between marriage and a career as a doctor, between the confining life of a small town and a self-directed one as a professional, mirrors Jewett's own conflicts as well as eloquently giving voice to the leading women's issues of her time. Perhaps even more importantly, Jewett's perfect details about wild flowers and seaside wharfs, farm women knitting by the fireside and sailors going upriver to meet the moonlight convey a realism that has seldom been surpassed and stamp her writing with her signature style.
About the Author
A contemporary and friend of Willa Cather, Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Julia Ward Howe, Sarah Orne Jewett is widely recognized as a pathfinder in American literary history, courageously pursuing a road less traveled that led the way for other women to follow.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
The Last Mile
It had been one of the warm and almost sultry days which sometimes come in November; a maligned month, which is really an epitome of the other eleven, or a sort of index to the whole year's changes of storm and sunshine. The afternoon was like spring, the air was soft and damp, and the buds of the willows had been beguiled into swelling a little, so that there was a bloom over them, and the grass looked as if it had been growing green of late instead of fading steadily. It seemed like a reprieve from the doom of winter, or from even November itself.
The dense and early darkness which usually follows such unseasonable mildness had already begun to cut short the pleasures of this springlike day, when a young woman, who carried a child in her arms, turned from a main road of Oldfields into a foot-path which led southward across the fields and pastures. She seemed sure of her way, and kept the path without difficulty, though a stranger might easily have lost it here and there, where it led among the patches of sweet-fern or bayberry bushes, or through shadowy tracts of small white-pines. She stopped sometimes to rest, and walked more and more wearily, with increasing effort; but she kept on her way desperately, as if it would not do to arrive much later at the place which she was seeking. The child seemed to be asleep; it looked too heavy for so slight a woman to carry.
The path led after a while to a more open country, there was a low hill to be climbed, and at its top the slender figure stopped and seemed to be panting for breath. A follower might have noticed that it bent its head over the child's for a moment as it stood, dark against the darkening sky. There had formerly been a defense against the Indians on this hill, which in the daytime commanded a fine view of the surrounding country, and the low earthworks or foundations of the garrison were still plainly to be seen. The woman seated herself on the sunken wall in spite of the dampness and increasing chill, still holding the child, and rocking to and fro like one in despair. The child waked and began to whine and cry a little in that strange, lonely place, and after a few minutes, perhaps to quiet it, they went on their way. Near the foot of the hill was a brook, swollen by the autumn rains; it made a loud noise in the quiet pastures, as if it were crying out against a wrong or some sad memory. The woman went toward it at first, following a slight ridge which was all that remained of a covered path which had led down from the garrison to the spring below at the brookside. If she had meant to quench her thirst here, she changed her mind, and suddenly turned to the right, following the brook a short distance, and then going straight toward the river itself and the high uplands, which by daylight were smooth pastures with here and there a tangled apple-tree or the grassy cellar of a long vanished farm-house.
It was night now; it was too late in the year for the chirp of any insects; the moving air, which could hardly be called wind, swept over in slow waves, and a few dry leaves rustled on an old hawthorn tree which grew beside the hollow where a house had been, and a low sound came from the river. The whole country side seemed asleep in the darkness, but the lonely woman felt no lack of companionship; it was well suited to her own mood that the world slept and said nothing to her,—it seemed as if she were the only creature alive.
A little this side of the river shore there was an old burial place, a primitive spot enough, where the graves were only marked by rough stones, and the short, sheep-cropped grass was spread over departed generations of the farmers and their wives and children. By day it was in sight of the pine woods and the moving water, and nothing hid it from the great sky overhead, but now it was like a prison walled about by the barriers of night. However eagerly the woman had hurried to this place, and with what purpose she may have sought the river bank, when she recognized her surroundings she stopped for a moment, swaying and irresolute. "No, no!" sighed the child plaintively, and she shuddered, and started forward; then, as her feet stumbled among the graves, she turned and fled. It no longer seemed solitary, but as if a legion of ghosts which had been wandering under cover of the dark had discovered this intruder, and were chasing her and flocking around her and oppressing her from every side. And as she caught sight of a light in a far-away farmhouse window, a light which had been shining after her all the way down to the river, she tried to hurry toward it. The unnatural strength of terror urged her on; she retraced her steps like some pursued animal; she remembered, one after another, the fearful stories she had known of that ancient neighborhood; the child cried, but she could not answer it. She fell again and again, and at last all her strength seemed to fail her, her feet refused to carry her farther and she crept painfully, a few yards at a time, slowly along the ground. The fear of her superhuman enemies had forsaken her, and her only desire was to reach the light that shone from the looming shadow of the house.
At last she was close to it; at last she gave one great sigh, and the child fell from her grasp; at last she clutched the edge of the worn doorstep with both hands, and lay still.
Most helpful customer reviews
24 of 24 people found the following review helpful.
Interesting Perspective
By A Customer
What an enjoyable book! As a 19th century novel,it's slow paced enough to reflect upon the value of one's life and work.The young heroine's plan to study medicine is unaccepted by many people, but Nan is determined. She is lucky to have the backing of her guardian, himself a doctor. His thoughts about and support of her decision are very progressive for the time, and heart-warming. Nan's choice is challenged when she meets an attractive young man. The mores of the time demand that she choose between marriage and a profession. The weight that a profession carried at that time made it more a vocation than simply a job. A person chose seriously, his/her future as her life-long identity and contribution to humanity. This novel was thought producing,and its perspective interesting - I recommend it.
10 of 10 people found the following review helpful.
A little masterpiece
By Nina M. Osier
In a small Maine town in the 19th Century, a young woman fights her way through a stormy night to her childhood home with her own child in her arms. A few hours later she dies, leaving her little girl in her own mother's care and with strict instructions that her husband's family must not get custody. Instead she names the little town's doctor to be her daughter's guardian, if the grandmother does not live to raise the child to womanhood. The little girl, Anna "Nan" Prince, grows up with one goal in mind: she wants to become a doctor, too. Not only in imitation of the lonely man who comes to love her as his own child, but because she believes this is both what nature has fitted her to do and what God intends as her life's mission.
Nan's unusual choice of vocation naturally meets tests, none of which she finds it difficult to overcome until - as a medical school graduate, a woman in her 20s - she finally decides to visit her father's family. Faced with the life she might have had, that of a wealthy man's heir in a town where she finds both loving relatives and new friends, she finds herself considering what her new-found family very much wants her to do: give up her dream, and become the wife and mother her society expects every woman to become.
This is amazingly modern story. It moves at a leisurely pace, but no scene is wasted. Jewett goes out of her way to make sure the reader understands that neither she nor her heroine contests the wisdom of the era, that most women certainly do belong "at home" and will be happiest there. I would assume she meant this to help that reader better accept her presentation of Nan Prince as a normal, lovable, sane and feminine female who just happens to be gifted for the practice of medicine. I found both Nan and her story thoroughly enjoyable. So much has changed since Jewett wrote and published this book - but so much has not, too!
--Reviewed by Nina M. Osier, author of GRANITE ISLAND
7 of 7 people found the following review helpful.
Inspirational
By Anita Keays
This little book gives us insight into the New England culture of the late 1800's and what it was like to grow up as a girl in a small town. Having lived in recent years in the very town of the authoress, I found it authentic in the characterization of the community she described. She portrayed the simplicity of New England living and their penchant for using words sparingly. The inspiration came from tidbits of philosophy for the development of the strength of character to overcome the expectation for one's role in life in a way that was not confrontational, but realistically the right thing to do. This little book reminds us that character and manners can make life much more pleasureable.
See all 11 customer reviews...
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