May Sarton (1912–1995)

What a treat to learn the story of Tom Jones, the Fur Person, formerly known as Cat About Town, and his search for a place to go home to. Told from the Gentleman Cat's perspective, we learn some of the rules of life as a Cat About Town, and as a Gentleman Cat who has chosen to grace certain humans (Gentle Voice and Brusque Voice) with his presence. Of course we readers will understand the somewhat puzzling transition from Terrible Jones the street fighter, to Glorious Jones who would rather show more keep his shirt clean and indulge in the occasional snort of catnip (it had something to do with that terrifying trip to "the hospital", but beyond that...) Whimsical, yet insightful, if you know cats yourself. Beautifully illustrated, too. show less

"I am here alone for the first time in weeks," May Sarton begins this book, "to take up my 'real' life again at last. That is what is strange―that friends, even passionate love,are not my real life, unless there is time alone in which to explore what is happening or what has happened." In this journal, she says, "I hope to break through into the rough, rocky depths,to the matrix itself. There is violence there and anger never resolved. My need to be alone is balanced against my fear of show more what will happen when suddenly I enter the huge empty silence if I cannot find support there." In this book, we are closer to the marrow than ever before in May Sarton's writing. show less

Savory, and best appreciated in smallish bits. The subtitle is "The intimate diary of a year in the life of a creative woman", and that's pretty fair truth in advertising. In 1972, at the age of 58, May Sarton was living alone in her home in New Hampshire, working on her poetry, assessing her life and Life in general (as she apparently was wont to do) in journal entries always intended to be shared. She speaks cautiously of certain people in her life, plumbing the depths of her own emotions show more while clearly trying to protect the privacy of some of those close to her. (She refers to her current "passionate love" as "X", for instance, and to an aspiring young poet who seeks her advice as "Z".) I found much of it very moving, and unsettlingly connected to me in many ways. I recognize her feelings and responses to life's routine situations, and her observations on the nature of writing are spot on. "I suppose I have written novels to find out what I thought about something and poems to find out what I felt about something." It's a bit discouraging, though, to read some of her sensible views on sexuality, for example, and to realize that as a society we still haven't quite got to where she was then. I expect I will revisit this journal, at least in parts, often. It has also prompted me to pick up the great long biography of Sarton by Margot Peters that's been sitting on my shelf for a while. May Sarton is one of those authors I should have known about 45 years ago, but did not discover until recently. Ah, well, "At any age, we grow by the enlarging of consciousness, by learning a new language, or a new art or craft...that implies a new way of looking at the universe." show less

In May Sarton's last novel, As We Are Now, Caro, the main character, keeps a journal in an attempt to maintain her lucidity, intellect and sanity while confined in a questionable senior care facility. As the neglect escalates and her mental state declines, she hatches a plan to "escape."

I was quite surprised by As We Are Now. While I got what I expected, Sarton's contemplative style, I was not expecting a novel with such obvious gothic undertones. Sarton weaves a sad and forlorn tale with show more the painful themes of aging, elder neglect, abandonment, and senescence, but has created a courageous character that is determined to persevere despite her dire circumstances. There is a sense of impending doom in this atmospheric novel, which can easily be read in one or two sittings. show less