The Small Room

by May Sarton

Anxiously embarking on her first teaching job, Lucy Winter arrives at a New England women's college and shortly finds herself in the thick of a crisis: she had discovered a dishonest act committed by a brilliant student who is a protégée of a powerful faculty member. How the central characters―students and teachers―react to the crisis and what effect the scandal has on their personal and professional lives are the central motifs of May Sarton's sensitive, probing novel.

Genres: Fiction, LGBT, Literary Fiction, Academia, Lesbian, Classics, Dark Academia

249 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1961

About the author

May Sarton was born on May 3, 1912, in Wondelgem, Belgium, and grew up in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Her first volume of poetry, Encounters in April, was published in 1937 and her first novel, The Single Hound, in 1938. An accomplished memoirist, Sarton boldly came out as a lesbian in her 1965 book Mrs. Stevens Hears the Mermaids Singing. Her later memoir, Journal of a Solitude, was an account of her experiences as a female artist. Sarton died in York, Maine, on July 16, 1995.

Reviews

[Rebecca · Rating 4 out of 5]

My fourth Sarton novel (after Mrs. Stevens Hears the Mermaids Singing, As We Are Now, and A Reckoning), and probably a joint favorite with A Reckoning. Although it’s from 1961, luckily it doesn’t feel as dated as Mrs. Stevens.

“Sometimes it’s not so easy / To be the teacher’s pet.” (from “Don’t Stand So Close to Me” by the Police)

Dr. Lucy Winter – who I couldn’t help but think of as an homage to Lucy Snowe from Charlotte Brontë’s Villette – is just 27 when she arrives at Appleton College to teach American literature. The New England women’s college (most likely based on Wellesley, where Sarton lectured at the time) prides itself on producing exceptional female scholars, not just bluestockings. But the pressured academic environment drives some students to extremes. First Agnes Skeffington becomes so absorbed in her mathematical research that she lets all her other subjects slip. The faculty votes to allow her to stay. “Genius is always intolerable when you come right down to it,” medieval history professor Carryl Cope quips. Then Lucy catches another senior, Jane Seaman, plagiarizing an essay from Simone Weil. Jane is Carryl’s protégée, and at first there are efforts to cover up the whole affair, but soon the story breaks and the self-righteous student government gets involved. Will Jane be expelled? Sent to a psychiatrist? Or pardoned?

It may not be the most original scenario, but it does fall out in unexpected ways. What’s most interesting to watch, though, is the shifting of Lucy’s loyalties and the growth of her confidence in her teaching abilities over the course of just one semester. As the New England autumn advances and the days get shorter and colder, she thinks less about her former fiancé, John, and more about “the price of excellence” – a central question here. She also worries over getting too personally involved with her students: she’s uncomfortable when Pippa tearfully confides in her about her father’s death, and decides she’d better not accept any more invitations to student teas; she doesn’t really want them to consider her their friend while she’s still their professor. (Even though she can only be six to nine years older than most of these young women, she calls Jane “My poor girl” and Pippa “good girl” – they’re to be her disciples and ‘children’ rather than her peers.)

Apart from Carryl, the other faculty characters rather blend into one. It’s notable that Carryl is in a relationship with another woman, Olive Hunt, a rich trustee of the college, and their bond is specifically equated to love late in the book (there are a few such minor references to homosexual affairs prior to Mrs. Stevens, the coming-out book). It’s mostly Carryl who’s responsible for Lucy falling in love with the teaching profession – they both see themselves as involved in “the care of souls” and believe they are keepers of “the sacred fire.”

My main disappointment is that we don’t get to see what happens when Lucy takes Jane home with her for Thanksgiving at her mother’s in New York; instead, the book skips over the holiday weekend. I imagine this was to keep things concise and to limit the book to one setting – the “small room” of the title is the office where Lucy holds freshman conferences, but it’s also, more broadly, the hothouse atmosphere of the campus. The restrictions on the location, cast and duration make the novel focused and keep it from sprawling aimlessly. It’s a quick and pleasant read that could interest anyone who’s in academia, whether or not they’ve read Sarton before.

Some favorite lines:

“The girls arrived, and settled like flocks of garrulous starlings, perpetual chatter and perpetual motion.”

“And what was teaching all about anyway? If one did not believe one was teaching people how to live, how to experience, giving them the means to ripen, then what did one believe?”

Lucy: “I don’t see how anyone can be a good teacher, let alone a great one. You can’t win: either you care too much or too little; you’re too impersonal or too personal; you don’t know enough or you bury the students in minutiae”

[Emily · Rating 3 out of 5]

A 1960 novel set at a college based on Wellesley, from the point of view of a young teacher. Many reviews describing plot are already up on goodreads. I'll just note that among a number of things the give the book a dated air, none struck me more than the fact that 1) Lucy Winter is able to get Jane Seaman a same day appointment with a psychiatrist over the Thanksgiving weekend 2) Lucy tells anyone who asks -- the college president, multiple faculty, a fellow student -- exactly what the psychiatrist told her about Jane's mental health, or lack thereof.

[Lobstergirl · Rating 2 out of 5]

Lucy Winter arrives to teach English at a New England women's college in the 50s, having just ended her engagement to a man. But grading freshman papers is exhausting: there was "no gleam to leaven the lump of dullness and adequacy. She had, apparently, led twenty-five intelligent girls to their first contact with a masterpiece - and simply nothing whatsoever had taken place to trouble the bland surface of their minds."

Soon the campus erupts in scandal, as Appleton's brightest student is caught by Lucy plagiarizing an obscure article of Simone Weil. (Did Sarton assign the most brilliant student, Jane Seaman, a homophone for semen by accident? Freudianism is one of the faculty's most touchy topics.) Jane's biggest booster, professor Carryl Cope, wants to stuff it all under the rug. "She has been punished enough," says Carryl. (She hadn't been punished at all at this point.) If only there were a resident psychiatrist on campus that students could talk to, things like this could be avoided, some faculty feel. But Appleton's biggest benefactor, old lesbian Olive Hunt, a former longtime lover of Carryl Cope, has always been against psychiatry, feeling it represents "moral cowardice and self-indulgence."

Feeling sorry for Jane, Lucy takes her home for the holidays and encourages her to have a session with a psychiatrist, who tells her that Carryl Cope is a father figure and she has been projecting onto Carryl. The plagiarism came from a subconscious wish to be found out and punished.

At the end of the novel most of the characters agree that Appleton is "not primarily a school for scholars." And "Teaching women is a special kind of challenge."

Even lesbianism cannot rescue this 1961 novel's stiff, creaky, archaic joints. Early on, Lucy feels that a professor named Jack Beveridge is kind. (She's met him once.) Later at a party, Jack tells his wife Maria to shut up (everyone is arguing about Jane Seaman) and pushes her roughly. Soon Maria is weeping and Jack is telling her "What you need is a good spanking!" Maria decides to divorce Jack and move to Italy. But they reconcile and everyone is blissfully happy.

I was surprised at the weakness of Sarton's writing. Among other things, she overuses adverbs, and I can never support "gentled" as a verb.

[Stacey · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is such a gem of a novel, not because it is an exciting read---it's not---but because it tries to define what makes good teaching work, for both the professor and the student. That's why it's a gem of a novel. It's a didactic novel, which makes it less successful in part, so there won't be a film version with Lucy standing on a desk yelling to her students, "Carpe Diem" (though perhaps that is something her colleagues might say to her). There are a few lovely lighthearted scenes that add some humor to the novel (Lucy at a freshman tea party; a aging benefactress driving 70 miles an hour through a red light), but it's mostly quite serious.

I know that someone has categorized academic novels as being in one of two camps: from the student perspective or the faculty prospective, and this is clearly from the latter. For Sarton, the teacher is idealized (and humanized): the true teacher is the "keeper of the sacred fire" (117)[no, not like those in Cormac McCarthy's The Road;].

A taste:

"Is there a life more riddled with self-doubt than that of a woman professor, I wonder?" (29)

"For she had come to see that it was possible, if one worked hard enough at it, to be prepared as far as subject matter went....but it was not possible to be prepared to meet the twenty or more individuals of each class, each struggling to grow, each bringing into the room a different human background..." (105).

"...she wondered whether just this were not what you did take on if you chose to be a teacher....this, the care of souls" (165).

"You can't win...the most detached teacher in the world infused her detachment, and if one student or another received this as a personal message, well, maybe one had to accept that that was one way of learning. No wonder teaching was called an art, the most difficult kind of art in which the final expression depends upon a delicate and dangerous balance between two people and a subject. Eliminate the subject and the whole center collapses..." (213).

"Because...what we give our students, whether we are personal with them or not, is the marrow, the essence of ourselves, what true lovers ask of love--and what does this mean? It means for one reason or another, we are ourselves cripples" (234).

[gaudeo · Rating 2 out of 5]

I think May Sarton is a stellar writer of journals and, to a slightly lesser extent, poetry. Her novels, however--the ones I've read so far, anyway--don't wow me. This one is typical in that regard. The premise is promising enough: a young woman, Lucy Winter, freshly bearing her doctorate, goes to teach in a temporary position at a private college in Maine. There she meets other faculty with varying degrees of eccentricity, and begins to get to know her students (though only two of them are ever mentioned by name). Lucy discovers that one of those students has plagiarized a paper, and what to do about it becomes the main focus of the book. A secondary issue is whether or not to hire a psychiatrist on campus for the well-being of the students. Though the former issue is timeless, the latter one is seriously dated, which influences my reading of the book. I also think Sarton's characterization is flawed, as I didn't feel I knew any of the characters well except Lucy. (Her recurring habit of referring to her characters by both first AND last name doesn't help.) So, my advice: a reader new to Sarton is much better served by picking up one of her journals.

[Leslie · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a book very much of its time, mid-century America, with a vision of academic life that seems almost unimaginable now--devoted professors and students all living in a kind of privileged bubble, devoted to the life of the mind, with each other all the time, all knowing each other and involved in every aspect of each other's lives, living together with a shared intensity. Some aspects of it seem admirable to me--the devotion to learning and to education as a shared endeavour--but the cloistered intensity of this kind of communal college life would be unbearable to me, and I did long for a bit of humour to leaven the earnestness of it all. And the world outside that bubble--the world of politics and oppression and business and race and practicality--hardly makes a sound that anyone in the bubble need pay attention to. I did enjoy the book, and if you are interested in this period and this world, I can recommend it.

[Jenny Yates · Rating 3 out of 5]

The protagonist of this 1961 novel is a new, young teacher at a women’s college in New England. She arrives in the throes of an identity crisis, after the end of a serious romance. At the time this was written, marriage and teaching were pretty much mutually exclusive, since when a woman married, she stopped working. This is the reality that underlies Lucy Winter’s crisis. In taking this job, she sees herself settling down for life as a spinster.

As soon as she arrives at the rarefied, venerable institution, Lucy Winter is thrown into a tense situation involving an intellectually gifted but emotionally disturbed student. Here is your basic metaphor for the dissonance between the head and the heart. It’s suggested that the student is disturbed in part because she’s been pushed so hard to achieve intellectually, at the expensive of her emotional health. Another character mentions that what she really needed was love.

Even more divisive is the question of whether the college should have “a resident psychiatrist”. The most brilliant professor on the faculty and the wealthy college benefactor are vehemently opposed to taking this step. They are lesbians, although this is so understated as to be almost invisible, and the other characters politely refrain from mentioning it. And although their relationship is portrayed as defunct (and impossible to resurrect, unlike a struggling heterosexual couple on campus), there is an interesting final suggestion that this is one way that Lucy could resolve her inner struggles.

Lesbian writers of the early 60s tended to suggest much more than they could say, and this contributes to the mannered, careful feel of this novel. When the characters aren’t being enigmatic, they’re being swayed by uncontrollable emotions. You can see this in films of the period too, the way everyone was fascinated by the unconscious and its tendency to burst out in inappropriate ways. It’s interesting to read it now, when emotional health and access to therapy are considered so basic.

[Pascale · Rating 4 out of 5]

A quiet, thoughtful book about the dynamics of teaching and who is to blame when a gifted student plagiarizes a paper for fear a revered teacher is going to be disappointed in her if she does't achieve new heights. The story is mostly from the point of view of Lucy, a young woman who has gone into teaching after a broken engagement has left her at a loose end. A newcomer in a small New England college for girls, she encounters her baptism of fire when she is the first to spot that star student Jane Seaman has copied an entire essay out of Simone Weil. Attempts by Jane's mentor Carryl, the most widely respected, and therefore envied, faculty member, and the administration to sweep Jane's transgression under the carpet backfire when rumors of favoritism drive the students to mutiny. This scandal hits the college right at the point when the issue of putting a psychiatric consultant on the payroll roils the waters. Although most younger faculty are favorable to the idea, the richest trustee, the tough and eccentric Olive, has made it a condition of a large bequest that no such appointment be made. To complicate matters, without the L word ever being mentioned, everybody is aware that Olive and Carryl have long been a couple. Under Lucy's influence, Carryl accepts that since she may have put too much pressure on Jane, it would be a good thing if Jane received psychiatric help instead of being expelled and deprived of any chance of an academic career. Olive, who has taken too firm a stand on the issue, finds that Carryl's loyalty lies with the college, and that her threat of changing her will strikes Carryl as petty and small-minded. At the end of the book, Jane is given a second chance by the representatives of the student body, but Olive and Carryl's relationship dies a casualty of the crisis. Short and probing, this novel is a celebration of the values of higher education and an analysis of some of the problems even the most dedicated teachers can unwittingly create.

[Rosamund Taylor · Rating 2 out of 5]

Published in the early sixties, this novel focuses on Lucy Winter, who becomes a teacher at a small women's college. Lucy enters what at first seems a calm and safe world, but comes to realise the passions, rivalries and hatreds that fill the college. This all comes to a head when Lucy discovers that a promising student has plagiarized an essay. The novel asks what being a teacher really means, how much teachers should give to their students, and how mental health interacts with academic work. There's something very nice about reading a book peopled by teachers who care so completely about their profession and their students. However, the novel is let down by the clunky writing: though much of the story is told in dialogue, Sarton doesn't have a great talent for writing dialogue and it often feels laboured or unnatural. As well as that, the main characters never feel fully realised: Lucy and the talented student Jane particularly don't come to life, though their emotions should be the centre of the book.

It's an interesting read as a history of 1960s attitude to mental health and psychoanalysis, as well as women's attitudes to being professionals. But it's a very slight novel.

[Jen Michalski · Rating 2 out of 5]

Disappointing--this was very much a book about ideas supported by thinly drawn, mostly arrogant characters. Would have worked better as a play. Also, I hoped there would be more warmth to the lesbian subtexts, but the main protagonist, professor Lucy, reacts pretty poorly to a crush from one of her students yet has no problem stating she "loves" professor Carryl, an arrogant, self-absorbed older lesbian who has indirectly caused one of her students to plagiarize (Jane, also hinted as a lesbian, who is given way too much understanding for her actions, considering how little sympathy she generates from the reader). The book, with all its intellectual complexity, could have been fabulous if Sarton had actually invested real time in developing these characters instead of putting pronouncements about love and knowledge in their mouths every other paragraph. Seriously, overbearing and tiresome.

[Bob · Rating 4 out of 5]

May Sarton has been on my "figure out who she is" list for a while. Though best-known as a poet, she wrote at least 15 novels and this (by virtue of somehow having wound up on my shelves) seemed as good a place as any to start.

I think her novels starting in the 1960s are more highly regarded for their bolder take on lesbian "themes". Here in 1955, that was just hinted at while the Red Scare of the time takes center stage. A novel of academe, but with none of the irony or satire that Mary McCarthy or David Lodge would bring to the topic, it is a quick and pleasurable read.

[Mary Cassidy · Rating 5 out of 5]

A much shorter delightful novel. If you have ever taught at the college level, you should read it. My favorite moment is when the narrator, newly minted PhD.. and new to teaching, realizes her small American Renaissance class “was exhilarating but exhausting, quite different from one of her freshman sections which seemed like a huge passive elephant she had to try to lift each morning.”
Oh yes!

[Joe · Rating 5 out of 5]

I think this is one of the best academic novels I've ever read. Heck, one of the best novels I've read, period. It is a remarkably nuanced exploration of why someone becomes a teacher, as opposed to a researcher.

*****

Reread this for a class on plagiarism and style. A quiet, sensitive novel of ideas, as they animate the lives of a small group of academics. Wonderful. (7/25/2018)

[Abby · Rating 1 out of 5]

Reading this novel is just as tedious as listening to self-important academics talk in real life. (No one likable quotes John Donne at the dinner table.) The characters are hard to grasp, much less appreciate. I really enjoyed Sarton’s novel Mrs. Stevens Hears the Mermaids Singing, so I was disappointed to feel so disenchanted with this one.

[Dee Rogers · Rating 5 out of 5]

I found this completely by accident in a used bookstore and I had no idea that I would discover it had fascinating lesbian themes and a strong connection to lesbian history. Admittedly I did single it out to buy because I found the setting of a woman's college in the middle of the 20th century interesting and assumed it would inform in some small way an understanding of queer culture at the time, if only in negative.

But no: one of the central characters is a lesbian, her longtime relationship is a central plot, the attitudes of her peers toward her queerness an important aspect of their respective characters. I held off googling the author until I was done reading, but as soon as I did I discovered that of course she was queer and wrote about queerness all her life (although she resisted the label "lesbian writer," asserting that it wasn't fitting because her works themes were universal).

I don't think that I would rate this book five stars if it wasn't for the kismet of how I came to find and read it, and the experience of unexpectedly encountering queer characters in the narrative. But I did thoroughly enjoy it and I think I'll look back on this book fondly for a long time. Its characters are vivid and loveable, its passion for the subject of education and the role of the teacher enchanting. It does very much read like "inside baseball" to me, by an academic for academics, but not less heartfelt or moving for that.

Our narrator, Lucy Winter, has shades of passive protagonists like The Great Gatsby's Nick Carraway; it's been a while since I read Gatsby, but he's my image of a protagonist who seems to do very little and to observe almost everything, who invites the most unlikely confessions from people he only knows slightly. Lucy is not such an extreme example as that; she does play an active role in the story, and she does in some cases work quite hard to get people to open up to her. Still, she has a saintlike quality, able to see all sides of every issue, and despite her protestations to the contrary arrives at the campus of Appleton with a remarkable natural wisdom; she's almost the golden mean that the other characters are seeking to find, a professor who balances the multiple ways in which education needs to be passed on instinctively.

Still, it's hard not to like her, as she sees so much to like in everyone else, and I like her more realizing the degree to which she was not May Sarton's self-insert character; that is undoubtedly Carryl Churchill, the proud, difficult middle-aged academic (Sarton was 49 when this book was published) set in her ways and realizing after decades that her single-minded pursuit of academic excellence may not be the most beneficial thing for every student. In light of that realization, Lucy seems like a sort of anti-Mary Sue, like Sarton imagined a perfect woman who rejected and challenged key aspects of her own identity and the brought her to life in an act of self-chastisement.

All of that rather leaves aside the queer content, which is human and real and beautiful, one of the most vivid aspects of the book (which makes sense knowing how close some of it is to Sarton's biography). Lucy hears that Carryl is close to one of the university's trustees, Olive Hunt, and doesn't seem to think too much of it immediately (I didn't), but one night she visit Carryl at home and quickly gathers, from the offhand way Carryl remarks that Olive may be stopping by and from the obvious intensity between them when Olive appears, that they're not simply close friends. Later, when another character is criticizing Carryl and mentions Olive, Lucy jumps to her defense, asserting that the relationship is a personal matter. It's a rather touching passage because everyone else present immediately jumps in to agree, and then the person who brought it up rather impatiently explains that they couldn't care less about the nature of the agreement, they just think it creates an unpleasant power dynamic among the faculty for Carryl to be close to a trustee (which is fair).

Olive and Carryl eventually fall apart, which is fitting because Sarton had apparently parted ways with her real-life longtime partner a few years before this book was published, but the portrait of the relationship is still affectionate and vivid. Even more remarkable is the fact that the book ends with an ambiguous suggestion that Lucy and Carryl will get together next.

"And you...and I?" [said Lucy].

"You and I?" Carryl thrust her hands into the pockets of her old leather coat. A cigarette dangled from her mouth. She suddenly looked faintly raffish. "You and I? Well, we may not be alright, but we'll survive."

"Yes," Lucy smiled. "We'll survive." Though all she felt at the moment was exhaustion, she said again, "We will survive, you and I," and then she found herself kissing Carryl Cope like a very old friend. "If I stay [and keep teaching]," she added, as they started down the stairs, "it will be for love."

"Alright," Carryl laughed, "you win!"

"I think you have made me fall in love with a profession."

"Because a fire burns in my head?"

"Because a fire burns in your head."

"Like very old friends" indeed.

[Mike Zickar · Rating 4 out of 5]

A surprising page turner that uses small college life to explore issues of trust, maturation, and human connection. The right book at the right time. . .

[Stephanie A. · Rating 4 out of 5]

What a perfect autumn read. Right from the prologue, I kept stopping to marvel at the beautiful descriptions of the New England campus, from the buildings to the colors of the leaves, and eventual November chill so crisp I could almost feel it.

As a graduate of a small liberal arts college myself, I found a lot of familiarity in the classroom discussions. And I was fascinated by Lucy's struggle with student-teacher conferences, and where to draw the personal/professional line (i.e. please do not cry at me about your dead dad). I very much recognize myself more in the students than the professor, not least because I am 100% a Pippa in terms of average tear production, but I know a couple of people who teach English at the university level, and I kept wondering how much (or little?) of themselves they recognized in Lucy's struggles.

But the best thing about it is that on several occasions, I actually laughed out loud. It's not a humorous book per se, but some parts just tickled my funny bone, like Lucy being AGHAST that after trying to share her rapture for Thoreau, her seminar students are like "meh" and "what an irresponsible manchild" and my personal favorite, "nineteenth-century beatnik." THEY'RE RIGHT AND THEY SHOULD SAY IT.

I also got a cackle out of Lucy finally getting fed up with the lack of passion from her freshman class, and basically shouting at them that they are a bunch of dunderheads*. Gives them grief by reading out "a paragraph or two" from the worst papers about The Iliad -- shortly after telling them to "wake up! It's nine o'clock in the morning and you look like a drove of whales washed up by the tide" -- and telling them, "Here is one of the great mysterious works of man, as great and mysterious as a cathedral. And what did you do? You gave it so little of your real selves that you actually achieved boredom," and my personal favorite bit, "This is not a matter of grades. You'll slide through all right. It is not bad, it's just flat. It's the sheer POVERTY of your approach that is horrifying!"

(inexplicably, the class all applauds her after this because apparently being angry makes her interesting. weirdos. it will be funny in time (see below), but not in the moment when it's actually directed AT you!)

*personal in-joke because this is literally what my old-school 11th grade English teacher called us when OUR essays were not up to snuff, and it was just such a hilariously bizarre and specific insult that I have never forgotten it. She was scary, but oh so good at actually teaching us to write better.

The faculty gatherings weren't my favorite part, and some bits of them just went over my head, but I still appreciated the cast of characters. I also had to cackle at the fact that there is a significant debate over whether or not the college should higher a resident psychiatrist, with the grand-dame of a benefactor haughtily sniffing, "What the girls need is not more 'help' -- ugh, how I loathe that word! -- but greater demands on their intellects and souls."

That's right, if they seem to be heading for a crack-up, simply push them harder! (You're gonna love what college students are like in fifty years, Olivia. I imagine that if she heard the phrase "safe space" she would simply keel over and die of apoplexy.)

(I kind of love Olivia though actually. I aspire to have my attire described as "Girl-of-the-Limberlost stuff." I also aspire to be so spiteful and stubborn as hell about my word that I will burn down my own relationship before I back down on my threats if someone tries to call my bluff. Not to mention that every time my alma mater asks for money in the same breath that they're telling me about all their Great New Changes, I dream anew of having the power, like her, of several million possible endowment dollars dangling before them as incentive to not be dumb.)

Long story short, this engaged me far more than I was expecting. I read and love a lot of older books, but it is not often that older adult fiction, at least of the Literature variety, is so accessible to me. I suspect even this may not have been in my twenties. But at this point, I'm actually kind of craving a book club discussion about it, which is...not a thing I have ever said before, since I usually prefer to enjoy my books as an entirely independent experience, but something about this one just really begs to be shared. I would even write a paper about it, honestly. Who am I!

[Selome · Rating 5 out of 5]

What one unearths in this steadily building plot is an intense, controlled passion assiduously dissecting the spirit of the classroom. No two classes are ever the same because it is always an orcbestera comprised of different people at different times. The ethical, moral Truths that form and dissassemble within this women's college are captured with such a tangible vigour that I felt it was all a foundation to explore questions rather than tell a story.

It reminds me of the philosophical dialogue one might find in an ancient record - the pretext is usually a group of friends lounging about only to circle around unanswerable questions with profound insight rooted in the specific moments of teaching. Things too abstract to share are said, such that I have learned so much more about teaching than I could have ever imagined. I always knew there was a puzzle in it, but now I have had quite a glimpse.

And all this understanding from a short little humble novella!

[Nicholas Beck · Rating 2 out of 5]

Written approximately 5 years before May Sarton came out as a lesbian, this novel is overly didactic, with exceedingly clumsy dialogue to boot. You can see Sarton struggling with her lesbian (and heterosexual - a bizarre spanking reference) characters. Yes, the main protagonist is lesbian but Sarton can't quite state the fact openly not yet anyhow. Definitely has some interesting thoughts on teaching and the professional relationship between student and teachers (modern attitudes would see some of these relationships in this novel as highly inappropriate). As a novel though, I can't really recommend it.

[Karen · Rating 2 out of 5]

I've had this on my shelf forever as I had enjoyed some of Sarton's journals a long time ago when I was avidly reading memoirs and journals of women writers. The novel, unfortunately, disappointed, and as one other reviewer stated, reminded me a lot of a stage play ... and a stiff one at that. Most of the main scenes seem to take place at cocktail parties with all of the characters arranged in tableaus. I suppose I just don't enjoy novels that are this "talky" where the characters endlessly voice opinions and very little actually happens.

[Kristina · Rating 3 out of 5]

What an odd little earnest novel! It was perhaps a bit simplistic, yet I keep telling people about it, mainly because I truly can't believe someone wrote a novel about this topic! It's interesting how the faculty lose their minds over the issue and the students handle it much better than they do (actually not surprising). The debates over how much we push students to achieve, what the role of the mentor/teacher is in college, and whether or not psychologists are required on campus (they are) are all still super relevant. Not a profound book, but charming in its earnestness and musing.

[Pamela Thompson · Rating 4 out of 5]

The only reason this book does not receive a 5 star is that there is a few instances where the reader can lose track of the characters. A little more character development would have made it easier to follow the "conversations" which is really what the book is designed around. Lots of internal dialogue
Very accurate portrayal of small college life and experiences of teaching in the professoriate....honest and authentic
Highly recommend.

[Pat Jennings · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ahhhhh, the life of a teacher... This book expresses the many feelings and emotions that teachers experience along the way in their career. One new teacher, Lucy, learns by rapid fire her first semester of teaching after earning her PhD. The student experience is the other side of that and is equally noted. I enjoy May Sarton's writing, clear while also requiring deep thinking.

[Terri · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a quiet book, easy to immerse yourself in. In some ways it reminded me of the film Mona Lisa Smile.

I'd say this is a good book to read if you enjoy stories about universities or an academic atmosphere in general. The plot is focused on what it means to be a good teacher, and how a teacher's actions can affect their students.

[Rochelle Kaplan · Rating 1 out of 5]

i suppose the philosophical questions pertaining to student/ faculty relationships, the purpose of education, and a school’s responsibility to its students- are timeless. But this telling of those questions did not withstand the test of time. Stilted dialogue and lack of character development left me bored and disinterested.

[Bettye · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Small Room is the story of a young woman who has just broken off an engagement and decides to teach at a small boarding school in New England. All of the characters are well drawn, the story is interesting and I thoroughly enjoyed this book.

[Hannah · Rating 3 out of 5]

read this for class. it was okay for the most part but had one really funny line: "She was evidently one of those dangerous beings who regard a car not as a means of transport but as a means of expression". it was extra funny given the overall context and style of the book lol

[Holly · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'd never heard of May Sarton, but now I'm so glad she's written so prolifically. This was a wonderful little book about love, learning, teaching, and the nature of justice, and richly written.

[Kassyreadsalot · Rating 1 out of 5]

Did not care for this book at all! The only reason I finished it was because I had to read this for class

[Hazel · Rating 4 out of 5]

It was extremely interesting and I held on from beginning to end. However, I feel like the ending left a large number of loose ends out there, but I feel like that was intentional. It made me think.