A Marsh Island

by Sarah Orne Jewett, Don James McLaughlin (Editor)

Toward the end of her life, Sarah Orne Jewett (1849–1909) made a surprising disclosure. Instead of the critically lauded The Country of the Pointed Firs, Jewett declared her “best story” to be A Marsh Island (1885), a little-known novel. Why? One reason is that it demonstrates Jewett’s range. Known primarily for her vignettes, Jewett accomplished in these pages a truly great novel. Undoubtedly, another reason lies in the novel’s themes of queer kinship and same-sex domesticity, as enjoyed by the flamboyant protagonist Dick Dale. Written a few years into Jewett’s decades-long companionship with Annie Fields, A Marsh Island echoes Jewett’s determination to split time between her family home in Maine and Fields’s place on Charles Street in Boston. The novel follows the adventures of Dale, a Manhattanite landscape painter in the Great Marsh of northeastern Massachusetts and envisions the latter region’s saltmarsh as a figure for dynamic selfhood: the ever-shifting boundaries between land and sea a model for valuing both individuality and a porous openness to the gifts of others.

Jewett’s works played a major role in popularizing the genre of American regionalism and has garnered praise, both in her time and ours, for her skill in rendering the local landscapes and fishing villages along or near the coasts of New England. Just as Jewett brought attention to the unique beauty and value of the Great marsh region, editor Don James McLaughlin reveals a convergence of regionalism and sexuality in Jewett’s work in his introduction. A Marsh Island reminds us that queer kinship has a long tradition of being extended to incorporate queer ecological belonging, and that the meaning of “companionship” itself is enriched when we acknowledge its indebtedness to environment.

Genres: Classics, Fiction, 19th Century

216 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1885

About the author

Sarah Orne Jewett was an American novelist and short story writer, best known for her local color works set in or near South Berwick, Maine, on the border of New Hampshire, which in her day was a declining New England seaport.

Reviews

[Candi · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Love is forever a mystery; it is rooted deep in still greater mysteries, and the attractions and repulsions even of friendship are as inflexible as law can make them.”

With only 32 ratings and 13 reviews, this is an obscure book, even on an avid reader’s site like this! I suspect it would be virtually impossible to run into anyone in the “wild” that has heard of it. How did I come across it then? Well, I thank the Backlisted podcast for this one. In this episode, Noreen Masud, author of A Flat Place, joined the cast to discuss Sarah Orne Jewett’s self-proclaimed best work. I would have skipped right past this one except that I’ve read Jewett before. I adored The Country of the Pointed Firs and its idyllic Maine setting a few years ago. Noreen Masud and the Backlisted cast managed to fully entice me to pick this up only a few days after listening to their engaging banter. It’s not the first time I’ve been wholly satisfied by their witty and charming exchanges. But what about the book? Well, it’s damn good! I was lured from the start.

“One August afternoon the people who drove along the east road of a pleasant Sussex County town were much interested in the appearance of a young man who was hard at work before a slender easel near the wayside… they inspected with some contempt the bit of scenery which was honored with so much attention. This was in no way remarkable. They saw a familiar row of willows and a foreground of pasture, broken here and there by gray rocks, while beyond a tide river the marshes seemed to stretch away to the end of the world.”

If you’re already bored with this bit of description, then this novel isn’t for you. There’s more of that throughout. If it grabs you as it did me, well… there’s more of that throughout! The setting here is the Great Salt Marsh in Massachusetts during the late nineteenth century. When Dick Dale, a young artist from New York City, shows up to paint a bit of their landscape, the inhabitants of a small rural community are equally suspicious and fascinated. When an injury causes Dick to spend a spell in the home of the Owens family, those members get a glimpse of life outside their own little world. The patriarch of the family, Israel Owens, is taken by the young man due to his resemblance to his deceased son. Mother Owens, who is not quite satisfied with the life of a farmer’s wife, looks upon Dick as a possible partner and way for her daughter Doris to start a new life in the manner Mrs. Owens would have liked for herself.

“The mother’s heart grew heavy as she pictured her only child growing faded and changed year after year, tired and worried more and more with the hard round and petty responsibility. Doris had it in her to grow beyond it all, as she herself had once; to do something else and something better; to be somebody, as she told herself with pathetic disappointment. Men folks were slow at understanding how a woman felt about such dull doings and lack of entertainment, the long winters and the endless, busy days of summer.”

Then there is Doris, the beautiful, unassuming young woman who already has a potential prospect in a local man, Dan Lester. The two have known each other since they were children. Dan and the entire town expect the two will eventually wed. Until the arrival of Dick Dale, Doris never imagined any other future. She gets a glimpse of a world wholly unlike the one she knows and understands. At first, I assumed Dick Dale to be the protagonist of the novel. Instead, I suspect it is Doris that Sarah Orne Jewett wanted us to examine most closely. She is the one that will need to deal with conflict and growth. She will need to determine what to do when faced with the choice of the known versus unknown. Rural versus city. New money prospects versus old money. Class and opportunity of course, too. Dick Dale’s view of the small community is intriguing as well. He’s charmed by the place, but then makes little changes he presumes will make the Owens home “better”, for example. He also makes assumptions about where a woman like Doris would best be suited, what her future should look like. I like the way Jewett uses Dick’s paintings in parallel with how he changes his view on people and place. We often “see” people the way we would like to. Are we able to change that picture in our minds as we learn more about a person? Are we able to discern their growth or do we choose to ignore it?

“Doris had seemed younger than her years, and had painted herself upon his consciousness in pale colors, and faint, though always perfectly defined, outlines. But his old knowledge of her seemed now as the enthusiasm and eagerness of a first sketch does to the dignity and fine assertion of a finished picture.”

I won’t tell you how the story ends, but I found it to be equally progressive yet faithful to the truth of those times. I can’t say I agree wholeheartedly with Jewett’s own opinion as this being her best work, as I enjoyed my time with The Country of the Pointed Firs more. However, I certainly can see where she would think this to be her most important work in terms of social class and opportunities for women. I won’t disagree with that point at all! Sara Orne Jewett was a fascinating woman in her own right, and I might read up on her a bit more in the future.

“She felt as if she were on the verge of a greater sea, which might prove either wonderful happiness or bitter misery…”

[Maxwell · Rating 3 out of 5]

Dick Dale is a painter from New York City on an excursion to the salt marshes of northern Massachusetts. After an unexpected delay and subsequent injury extends his stay, he finds respite in the home of the Owens family. His immediate kinship with the daughter, Doris, and striking resemblance to son Israel Jr who died in the Civil War brings a connection between this interloper and the family that will reveal itself in striking ways.

Originally published in 1885 to critical, but not commercial, acclaim, Sarah Orne Jewett's A Marsh Island examines regionalism, sexual identity, and national unification in a post-Civil War era through the lens of a pastoral novel. It's akin to a landscape painting come to life, in both descriptions of nature and the tranquility it imposes.

Don James McLaughlin has an excellent essay to start the novel (though it contains spoilers so I'd recommend reading it after you complete the story) that captures the nuances and explains the complexity of what the author does in this text.

I enjoyed reading this story as it sits outside of what I normally read. It has the melodrama of classic literature while bring a nuance and complexity that similar stories of its time wouldn't have. Her characters don't conform to your expected stereotypes—especially regarding gender expression and identity. Men are more emotional and 'feminine,' while women are at times the saviors in perilous situations. These are just two quick examples of the many ways Orne Jewett depicts characters in ways that conflict with the generalizations of her time.

Perhaps if I had read the essay first, despite its spoilers, I would have enjoyed my reading experience a bit more, only in that I would have understood in greater detail and been able to appreciate why this book was important more than I necessarily loved it. It's quite slow; the descriptions, while beautiful, do make the book drag a bit. Each chapter serves as a sort of vignette and it's not until nearly 2/3 of the way into the book that any sort of plot is evident. It's more of a 'fish out of water' story where Dick's experiences and observations are juxtaposed with that of his host family.

All in all, though, I appreciated this book and would be interesting in reading more of her short fiction. She does such a great job at setting a scene and is very witty at times. Her cheekiness reminds me of Jane Austen's observational prowess, and the locales give off a sort of Willa Cather vibe. If either of those comparisons intrigue you, I'd recommend picking this up when it comes out in June 2023.

Thanks to the publisher for providing an early copy via Netgalley.

[Sandy · Rating 5 out of 5]

A fine example of the beautiful prose that I have learned to expect from this author. Her stories combine exquisite descriptions of the natural environment with well-rounded characters living simple lives. At first glance, the idyllic settings of her novels may seem unrealistic in their simplicity but the characters always encounter some hardships and challenges in the course of daily life. Honest self-evaluation ensues, along with the discomfort of strained relationships. With Sarah Orne Jewett, you can be sure of a happy ending for someone, but not without significant personal growth, and often a bittersweet ending for at least one of the characters. I have come to rely on Jewett when I need a gentle but realistic pastoral tale. This novel certainly fits the bill.

[Humphrey · Rating 2 out of 5]

Imagine a longer version of Jewett's "A White Heron" in a livelier community where the three central figures are all humans and comprise a love triangle; this is approximately A Marsh Island. This novel's prose is not so consistently good and its effect is not so painstakingly polished as Jewett's better-known novels/novellas. But it's perhaps her most extended treatment of the country-vs-city, rustic-vs-cosmopolitan tensions that run through her entire corpus.

[Amanda · Rating 4 out of 5]

What a pity this book isn't better known because it is a beautifully crafted novel. Jewett describes the landscape so richly I could see it as clear as day, her characters are lovely creations, and she dreamed up the most wonderfully undramatic love triangle ever put to page.

Apparently Jewett considered this her best work and while I don't quite agree with her, I can certainly understand her fondness for it.

Received via NetGalley.

[Kyle C · Rating 3 out of 5]

Sarah Orne Jewett's novella is a queer love-triangle drama and a lyrical portrait of post-civil war America. A young painter, Dick Dale, visits the rural marshlands of New England to devote himself to his art but, after breaking his leg, seeks the hospitality of a local farming family and decides to recover there indefinitely. The father of the household immediately takes a liking because the artist strikingly resembles his son who died in the war. But Dale is also a queer outsider, a so-called "miss Nancy", who strikes the community as more of a girl than a man. The daughter, Doris, is nonchalant about him but over time she becomes torn with the alluring strangeness of the artist. Her affections shift from her long-time suitor, Dan Lester, and she cannot decide what kind of man and future she would ultimately prefer—the cosmopolitan novelty of the city (which Dick represents) or the familiar routine and security of the marshes (which Dan offers). The farm "fetters" her sense of self but is also provides reliable comfort and stability.

As the introduction by Don James McLaughlin so eloquently lays out, this is a subtle novel about queer identity. Contemporary gay history and identity centers around the city—the bars, the art, the Soho clubs, the Village scene, and the "metronormative" narrative of the young gay man moving to the city to find acceptance— and yet queer literature fetishizes the rural escape. Think Forster's Maurice or Radclyffe Hall's Well of Loneliness, which imagine an idyllic paradise in the agrarian outskirts of the country, queer romantics fashioning alternative lives beyond the judging gaze of heterosexual society. While the novel is never explicit about Dick Dale's sexuality, it repeatedly positions him as the effeminate, artistic and urban interloper, a happy guest but a subject of gossip nonetheless. He comes to love Doris not because of any clear erotic attraction but because her face and her appearance encapsulate some transcendent form of beauty, something he could paint. It is an aesthetic love. To reiterate, it's not a gay novel because it has a gay character. But it is a proto-gay novel in the way it presents a starkly non-conformist idea of love and an eccentric romantic drama, the libertine versus the rustic, in which a woman is in the middle contemplating the opportunities of different kinds of marriage. It is a narrative centered around romantic freedom, possibility and choice.

It's an interesting example of early feminist storytelling, ultimately about a woman's self-determining decision about her own marriage and destiny, without the pressure of her parents. In a reverential way, Jewett celebrates the landscape of Maine and in her dialogue, written in a New England vernacular, she captures the clipped consonants of its rural accents. It is a novel that honors and memorializes a rural and provincial type of literature and life outside bourgeoisie conventions.

[Simón · Rating 2 out of 5]

Based on a small mention in a book about queer desire in the 19th century, I committed to reading this book set in a coastal/tidal marshland. I'm not sure about its queerness. I suppose that the farmer is the sturdy, nonintellectual, salt of the earth, reliable type of man. A man's man. And the artist is a fleety, romantic, creative, intellectual, worldly effete who could never make a farmer's daughter happy. Otherwise, this is a schlocky type of novel that reminds me of a lot of bad modern romance.

[Anne · Rating 4 out of 5]

First of all, don't let the marketing of this book prejudice you one way or another: it may have some queer undertones, but it is by no means a "gay novel."

Jewett is an author best known for her collection "The Country of the Pointed Firs." Having read it and liked it many years ago, I was eager to read this short novel, which Jewett considered her best work. I was not disappointed.

It is about the clash, or at least contrast, of values between life on a farm, with its all-encompassing focus on physical activity, and life in the city, which allows free rein for the mind, especially that which expresses itself creatively. Dick Dale is a wealthy, idle artist who sprains his ankle while sketching in the country and is taken in by a farm family. He becomes enchanted by the simplicity and straightforwardness of rural life and toys with the idea of settling down there, all the while knowing that he does not belong.

He admires the beautiful daughter of the house, but his attraction is esthetic rather than sexual. The editor of this edition assumes that he is gay, which I think is possible but unimportant. He justifies this by pointing out that Jewett was a lesbian and that one of the farming community describes Dale as "nancy," despite the fact that many gay artists create work that has nothing to do with their sexuality and male manual laborers often brand those who work with their wits as effeminate. A critic mentioned in one of the footnotes claims, more persuasively, that this conflict dramatizes Jewett's own dilemma of loving her country home in Maine but needing the intellectual and artistic stimulation of Boston: she had houses in both places.

Ultimately, this lovely book is worth reading for the beauty of Jewett's prose and the subtleties and wit of her mind. It's also a window into rural American life in the late 19th century (it was published in 1885), written with affection but without blinkers. And this edition is heavily footnoted with explanations of words or phrases that are unfamiliar to modern readers.* It's too bad that it's been seized by those hoping to use it to advance their personal agendas. Forget the politics and enjoy the novel.

*I read an early digital copy, courtesy of the Univ. of Pennsylvania Press and NetGalley. I hope this has been corrected in the final version of the ebook, but the many footnote references do not link to the footnotes themselves, making it difficult to consult the footnotes while reading the book.

[Ian Mond]

Richard, “Dick” Dale is a New York artist who has come to the salt marshes of Sussex, Massachusetts (a placeholder for Essex, Massachusetts) to do some sketching. When the bloke meant to pick him up fails to arrive, Dale takes a wander, arriving at the Owen family homestead. There, he meets Doris Owen and is immediately smitten. But he’s not the only one. The local blacksmith, Dan Lester — the best friend of Israel Owen, Doris’s brother who died in the Civil War — also has conniptions for Doris; he just hasn’t been able to express his feelings. Doris is not clueless. She knows that both men are after her. But who will she choose? The New York dilettante (who resembles her dead brother… did I mention that bit?) or the quiet, hard-working, but quick-to-sulk local boy?

I read the edition of A Marsh Island, edited by Don James McLaughlin. He does a terrific job teasing out the queer themes in the novel via a lengthy essay and annotated text (which, amongst other things, points out where the book differs from the version serialised in the Atlantic Monthly).

The informative handholding from McLaughlin is a much-appreciated added benefit to an already elegant, subtle novel. Jewett beautifully evokes the Essex countryside, the marsh, the swirling hay that changes with the tide, the sparkling summer colour. It’s also a very kind novel. Jewett loves all her characters, allowing not only our three protagonists but also Mr and Mrs Owen to speak for themselves to express their desires and fears. There’s also a haunted quality to the story; as McLaughlin points out, the Owens are still struggling to process the death of their son. This is suggested in Mr and Mrs Owen seeing their son in the colour of Dick’s eyes, but also the sensation, felt especially by Dick, that Israel is present, at times experiencing the world through Dick. All of it, these different textures and tones, are handled with astonishing deftness and skill.

A Marsh Island is a hidden treasure of a novel (McLaughlin admits that very few have heard of it, let alone read it), and much like Dick and Dan’s feelings towards Holly, I was besotted with it.

(I know I bang on about Backlisted, but whether you read this novel or not, I would heavily recommend that you listen to the episode on the book. Noreen Masud, in particular, is marvellous).

[Anna montgomery · Rating 3 out of 5]

Good, if far from as sharp as Pointed Firs. The melodrama of the romance approaches Ozu-like levels of barely existing (except for Dan, the moody fuck) — but somehow still reads like Middlemarch fanfic (a genre I support; here's hoping olden fanfic was all about the anti-drama): Dick dale is so squarely a Will Ladislaw type (flighty artistic ne'er-do-well / emotionally compelling, simp-adjacent bimbo); Doris, a Dorothea; and there's even a Naumann. I guess Dan could be chaotic-evil Sir James...?

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I'm curious in general about "regional" writing, (especially women-centered regional writing maybe?), which this very intensely qualifies as...I don't have anything to say about it really, it's just been on my mind since I read the nyt obituary for Athol Fugard (rip). Long relevant quote:

In none of these plays, however, is apartheid the addressed subject. Rather, it is the saturating reality of the plays, the societally sanctioned philosophy — like American capitalism in Arthur Miller’s “Death of a Salesman” — that informs the lives of the characters.

For them, Mr. Fugard created an insular, circumscribed world, just as William Faulkner did for his characters with the fictional Yoknapatawpha County in Mississippi.

Mr. Fugard considered Faulkner an influence.

“I was absolutely fascinated by the fact that here was an American writer who was unashamedly regional," he said. "It was reading and responding to Faulkner that gave me my first push toward the regional identity that I’ve stayed with ever since."

[...]

In 1967, with international performances of “The Blood Knot” enhancing Mr. Fugard’s profile, and the growing reputation within South Africa of the subversive productions of the Serpent Players, the government seized Mr. Fugard’s passport, essentially giving him a choice: stay in the country or leave and never come back. He stayed, entering into a period of collaborative work that included “Sizwe Banzi,” a play, first produced in 1972, that, as Mr. Fugard recalled in 1989, “was far too dangerous for us to go public with it.”

“So we launched the play by underground performances to which people had to have a specific invitation — a legal loophole in the censorship structure in South Africa, and one we continued to exploit for many years,' he said. “During our underground period, we had a lot of police interference. They rolled up once or twice and threatened to close us down, arrest us — the usual bully tactics of security police anywhere in the world. We just persisted, carried on, and survived it."

Again, I don't really have anything specific to say about regional writing, it just feels like it a good way to digest one's political moment.. to see things for what they are and act accordingly, or something. And it definitely seems like a good way to be placed (rooted, present in ur surroundings and their history, etc) without descending into any blood & soil feverdream nonsense. Idk---it feels clear-eyed!

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The motif of the open v closed door will stick with me 🥲

[abby · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is the first Jewett I’ve read, so I can’t speak to how this version stacks up against earlier versions or how it compares to her other works. However, you don’t need to have all of that prior reading done to enjoy this edition of “A Marsh Island,” which follows a queer artist as he ingratiates himself into a Massachusetts marshland farm family. The detailed footnotes demonstrate the care with which this edition is arranged — I especially liked when they would denote where a line deviated from a different edition. The introduction included (which I read after finishing the book) was helpful in explaining how Jewett sought to portray queer companionship in “A Marsh Island” and gave some relevant biographical context explaining Jewett’s assertion that this is her best story. Thank you NetGalley and University of Pennsylvania Press for the review copy.

[Paul Nelson · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a simple story: A stranger comes to town. Martha and Israel Owen operate a prosperous farm in sea marsh country. They have a beautiful daughter, Doris. Their one son, Israel Jr., was killed in battle. One day a young painter, Dick Dale, appears, needing shelter for the night. He stays for weeks and takes a shine to Doris. Doris has a long-time suitor, Dan Lester, but also takes an interest in Dick. Small events lead to a small crisis, and Doris must choose between them. She chooses, and that's the whole story. Very little happens, but the writing, especially the nature writing, is beautiful. Though almost nothing happens in this novel, I found myself carried along and wondering what will come next. And, most of all, stopping again and again to admire the writing.

[Brian · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was different from the other books I have read by Jewett. The regional description of the marshland and the people is the same, but the closer look inside the minds of the characters was new. I'm not sure what to make of the complex weave of interplay with the characters. It almost begs to be read again with closer inspection to truly understand Jewett's intent with this novel.

I may be thick, but I don't see the queer, gender bending intent that the book description puts forward. I think Don James McLaughlin put too much of what he wants to see into the story for a more modern interpretation.

[tonia peckover · Rating 5 out of 5]

(all books get 5 stars). Jewett's writing is some of my favorite and this little novel is a gem. The sophistication with which she explores both location (urban vs rural) and the complexities of gender and sexuality are really striking. On the surface, it's a story about an artist discovering rural life with a nice m/f romance thrown in; it could easily be read and enjoyed that way. But underneath there is a marvelous exploration of platonic friendship, sexual ambiguity, gender roles and stereotypes. Really enjoyed it.

[Judy · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book was not rated very highly when it was written. But I liked it. It involves a love story, as well as an artist finding his soul & comfort in who he was. And I liked every one involved, as well as learning about farming on a island of marshes. Sarah Orne Jewett has a knack for clearly describing ordinary people in the 1800s. She is a remarkable author, and I believed the critics of her time were wrong about this book.

[Oscar · Rating 3 out of 5]

*ARC received in exchanged for an honest review via NetGalley* This book is something that you need to come into with little to no expectations and just be ready for where it takes you. I was completely unfamiliar with Jewett's work prior to picking this up and was absolutely delighted to find it full of lush, gorgeous prose and descriptions of scenery that makes me yearn to be there. This book is something slow and meant to be savored as a kind of poetry in its own right.

[lauryn · Rating 2 out of 5]

Jewett is a cool author but this had me running laps I was so lost. Dan hater for life, screw that guy.

[Henry Bronson · Rating 1 out of 5]

Wasn’t for me personally