Journal of a Solitude

If Sarton had actually been the persona she pretends to in her journal, I would still have not liked her very much. Her writing is beautiful, and the words stand notwithstanding several issues that stick out for me. There are several quotes that do, in fact, describe me - “How Unconscious we are, often, that giving may actually be asking, asking at the very least for attention”, her long discussions on the difficulty women, particularly married women, face in bring their creative self to the world (“It is harder than it used to be because standards of housekeeping and house-decorating have become pretentious and competitive” - history supports her here), and “I feel cluttered when there is no time to analyze experience.“

However, I am put off by her temper - early in the book, she throws a screaming tantrum at a friend over a casual comment about the flowers in her house not being perfect. At 58. She confesses that this is typical of her temper.

I am also put off by her treatment of the stray cat on her property. Midway into the book, she tempts the cat in the house... and then seemingly forgets about her, and some months later, mentions that the cat is again outside and in heat. Drove me nuts. I even went back through to see if she'd mentioned letting the cat back OUT of the house somewhere, but no. The cat did not rate enough notice or comment until she began producing kittens.

All in all, it was an interesting read. I admire her phrasing, but she fails in the chief task of any character - tell me why I should care. Make me like you enough to want to know what's going to happen to you.