The Country of the Pointed Firs by Sarah Orne Jewett

Source of book: I own this.

One of the first book reviews I did before I started my blog and was still using the notes on Facebook was of Sarah Orne Jewett’s short stories. I really enjoyed those, and had intended to read her longer works sooner. However, the copy I read was a library book, and I never did get back to borrowing it again.

Fortunately, my wife found a lovely hardback of The Country of the Pointed Firs at a library sale. (And, just last month, I scored a Jewett collection from the Library of America for a buck at a used bookstore in San Diego - that’s an interesting story in itself.) So, I had a perfect excuse to enjoy this book. 

The Country of the Pointed Firs is not so much a novel as a collection of stories spanning a summer spent in the fictional New England town of Dunnet Landing, Maine. The stories also involve the same characters and are further connected by the relationships between those characters.

The unnamed narrator is boarding with Mrs. Almira Todd, a widow who supports herself by selling herbal remedies and renting out a room. Mrs. Todd knows everyone, and has a pointed, yet not harsh, observation about all. Mrs. Todd’s elderly mother and brother, who live on an island just offshore, also figure prominently in the story. There are other memorable characters, from Captain Littlepage, the eccentric retired fisherman who has never gotten over the death of his beloved wife, to Mrs. Martin, the elderly woman born on the same day as Queen Victoria who feels a certain kinship with the queen. Nearly all of the characters are older, at least middle aged, whose children are grown and usually fled from the decaying fishing village to seek their fortunes, and who have at least one foot in the past. This is typical Jewett - these are her people, the ones her physician father used to care for, and the ones she knew throughout her life. She writes their lives with gentle affection, and a keen eye for human nature.

Jewett lived in New England in the latter half of the 19th Century, and her writing harkens back to that time and place. Her stories are regional, but yet universal. This particular story also has a connection to Jewett’s life. She never married, but cohabited with a widow after the husband’s death. (She had been friends with the couple before that.) This “Boston Marriage” was possible because the women were self-sufficient financially, of course, but they appear to have been close friends at the very least. In this book, the narrator (who strongly resembles the author) has a special connection with Mrs. Todd during their time together in Dunnet Landing, and their friendship is the central focus of the book. And it really is a touching friendship, two older women enjoying each other’s company and companionship while navigating each other’s needs and expectations.

Jewett was an excellent writer, and I never fail to enjoy her use of language or her complex and memorable characters. A few lines are worth mentioning. In one, Mrs. Fosdick remembers the old days, when the town was a bustling seaport, and most of the residents had traveled abroad, Mrs. Todd included.

“I used to return feelin’ very slack an’ behind the times, ‘tis true,” explained Mrs. Fosdick, “but ‘twas excitin’, an’ we always done extra well, and felt rich when we did get ashore. I liked the variety. There, how times have changed; how few seafarin’ families there are left! What a lot o’ queer folks there used to be about here, anyway, when we as young, Almiry. Everybody’s just like everybody else, now; nobody to laugh about, and nobody to cry about.”

It seemed to me that there were peculiarities of character in the region of Dunnet Landing yet, but I did not like to interrupt.

Say what? The old folks thought the younguns were all the same and not as interesting as they were back in the day? Who knew this happened way back then?

On the other hand, Jewett herself kind of sympathised with this idea, because it was true that it was harder to be provincial and insular when you travelled abroad. Those experiences of difference broadened views.

More than this one cannot give to a young State for its enlightenment; the sea captains and the captains’ wives of Maine knew something of the wide world, and never mistook their native parishes for the whole instead of a part thereof…

In our day, we see this too. There is a strong connection between experience and knowledge of the rest of the world, and empathy toward outsiders - and also a preference for diplomacy rather than warfare. (See for example this bit on the difference between those who can find North Korea on a map, and those who cannot…)

Whether or not you have the funds to travel, all of us can at least travel in the sense of experiencing unfamiliar places and people through reading. By exploring outside our bubble, whether that is geographical, chronological, religious, ethnic, or financial, we can develop commonality with others around the work, throughout time, and despite whatever differences we may have. In fact, I would say that one of the best predictors of whether I can find common ground to discuss the things that really matter is whether a person reads and experiences outside their own bubble. I have found lately that this is nearly impossible with someone whose knowledge base is Fox News and Breitbart and a few pop-theology tomes. There is no empathy to grasp in common. Whereas readers - we always can find commonality somewhere, and there is a language that can take us outside of our own boxes to understanding each other and the world we live in.

For one exercise of that gift, Sarah Orne Jewett can transport you to the New England of 150 years ago, to the lives of ordinary people whose experiences are rather different than ours, but whose humanity is instantly recognizable. They too love and hurt, and experience loneliness and joy, and have dreams and hopes and fears. This is what good literature does, and why it is so necessary.

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This particular edition was illustrated by Douglas Alvord. I have a soft spot for monochrome drawings, and these are really lovely, full of as much nuance of character as Jewett’s writing. 

Selected Short Stories and Sketches by Sarah Orne Jewett

Source of Book: Borrowed from the Library, but I want to add it to my collection.
Date originally posted on Facebook: December 16, 2010

This particular book (borrowed from the library) also contains Jewett’s 3 novels and a set of short stories related to one of the novels. This review covers the 24 stories and sketches not related to the novels or each other.

Jewett, the daughter of a country doctor, lived from 1859 to 1909. She received enough from her family to be essentially independently wealthy, although she also received income from her writing. She lived an enviable life, in many ways; she knew and socialized with many of the literary and other cultural figures of her era. However, she was never particularly healthy, never married, and became a bit of an invalid for her last decade.

Jewett was from, and lived in, New England. Her writing focuses on that region and its colorful inhabitants. One of my initial impressions was that she shared with Robert Frost the fascination with nature. Indeed, her prose and his poetry have much the same “feel”, despite the obvious differences in form. Since Frost came later, perhaps her writing was an influence on him; perhaps there is something in the very soil of rural New England that lends its flavor to those who settle there. Another author with some similarity, oddly enough, is L. M. Montgomery, for a different reason: Jewett, in addition to her observant writing of nature, had an excellent eye for people as well. Many of these stories concern older women, and their personalities and relationships are brought to life with both humor and pathos, but with great fondness.

Several in this collection are rightly called sketches, as they are autobiographical in nature. In addition to the times she accompanied her father on his rounds, Jewett loved to walk or ride throughout the countryside by herself. She recreates both of these activities in her sketches. As an avid hiker myself, I was drawn in – perhaps I need to visit the Northeast someday with my favorite hiking stick.

The stories themselves are told about the ordinary inhabitants of small towns and villages. The characters are (relatively) rich or poor, young and old, judgmental and kind, but none boring. I was particularly struck by the sense of community. Even the most cold-hearted character felt some responsibility for others, and every character felt connected somehow to her neighbors – even the ones that were disliked on a personal level. Alas, it seems that to a city dweller like me, this community is hard to find just anywhere. We still experience it in some cases at work, church, and within the circle of those who share our interests; we rarely know more than a couple of the neighbors on our street.

I already mentioned that Jewett has sympathy for her characters. She also brings a sense of hope to them all. Circumstances do not determine happiness. No one is entirely beyond repair, although many suffer in one way or another. Poverty was a daily fact of life for those who outlived their ability to perform manual labor. Poverty then meant boarding with others or in the poorhouse, planning the cost of each and every meal, making clothes last for years, and no chance of getting from place to place without walking. In our current “poverty” of cable TV, cases of soda purchased with food stamps, and vehicles for nearly everyone, we forget what true poverty was, and indeed is in most of the world. Jewett paints these pictures memorably. The brightness in the gloom, however, are the people. The lady who takes the time to gently encourage and instruct her cousin’s young housemaid. The spinster who brightened the lives of all those around her. The father who took his young daughters on a special day trip into town. These people are real, unembellished, and completely believable. Jewett had a real eye and ear for both nature and human nature, and combined these with excellent writing.

A few of the stories particularly stood out: The White Heron (which I read in high school), about a young girl, an ornithologist, and the bird; Marsh Rosemary, a devastating story of loneliness; Miss Tempy’s Watchers, contrasting the late Miss Tempy and the two friends that “stand watch” after her passing; A Native of Winby, about a successful soldier and politician who makes a return to his home village; and An October Ride, the best (in my opinion) of the sketches.

Willa Cather (among others), spoke highly of Jewett’s writing, ranking her with Twain and Hawthorne. While her writing was neither as prolific nor as earthshaking as these two, I would agree that it has the same depth, but on a smaller, more intimate scale. This is humanity as humanity, not as metaphor. This is humor that makes for a knowing smile, not a broad guffaw. These are tales of small, once familiar places; not exotic lands. This miniaturism is a strength of these stories, serving to highlight human nature without the distraction. Jewett’s writing is a reminder that the everyday and the familiar can, in the right hands, be as fascinating as the wildest fiction.