Going through the book, one cannot help wondering if it takes a tortured soul for art to come its manifestation. Sarton also candidly talks about her contemporary, Virginia Woolf. Her pursuit of solace and creativity and her craving for human compassion and intimacy tug at her in opposite directions. Journal of a Solitude also touches upon numerous topics like art, poetry, and the author’s struggle to establish herself as a female artist. This phase also marks the bitter end of her love relationship. The book is a genuine attempt at finding her inner anchor as she goes about her everyday activities.Īt the same time, Sarton also explores her depression, inner fears, apprehensions, and her frustration over unresolved anger and the glories she is yet to achieve. She reflects on her life in seclusion through this since account of her daily routine as well as her relationship with her pets, neighbors and the occasional visitor. Both uplifting and cathartic, it sweeps us along on Sarton's pilgrimage inward.Journal of a Solitude relates the events that occurred over the one year that Sarton spent in the quiet, idyllic village of Nelson, New Hampshire, far away from the city humdrum.
Journal of a Solitude is a moving and profound meditation on creativity, oneness with nature, and the courage it takes to be alone. Sarton's garden is her great, abiding joy, sustaining her through seasons of psychic and emotional pain. She confesses her fears, her disappointments, her unresolved angers. She likens writing to "cracking open the inner world again," which sometimes plunges her into depression.
She shares insights about everyday life in the quiet New Hampshire village of Nelson, the desire for friends, and need for solitude-both an exhilarating and terrifying state. In her bravest and most revealing memoir, Sarton casts her keenly observant eye on both the interior and exterior worlds. May Sarton's parrot chatters away as Sarton looks out the window at the rain and contemplates returning to her "real" life-not friends, not even love, but writing.
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