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Loading... An American girl in Londonby Sara Jeannette Duncan
None No current Talk conversations about this book.  Alishadt | Feb 25, 2023 |  no reviews | add a review
I have written this account only secondarily and at the instigation of publishers, for Americans. Primarily, I wrote it for the English people. I composed it in their country; it was suggested by their institutions, and it is addressed to them. You will see, if you read it, that I had reasons for doing this. The reasons are in the first chapter, at the very beginning. As you have not far to look for them, therefore, and as it is quite unnecessary to print a thing twice in the same book, I will not go over them again. The object of this preface is chiefly to draw your attention to the fact that I am not talking to you, dear compatriot, so that you will understand that there is no personal ground for any annoyance you may feel at what I say. No library descriptions found. |
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 Google Books — Loading...GenresMelvil Decimal System (DDC)813.4Literature English (North America) American fiction Later 19th Century 1861-1900LC ClassificationRatingAverage: (3.5)
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Wikipedia in English
1
In this book, Mamie Wick of Chicago, USA, travels by herself to London to see the sights, with the full approval of her family. This being the late 1800s, I was pretty floored by this specimen of independent female travel. I enjoyed the beginning of the book as Mamie sails over to England and meets a couple of people who will be instrumental to her there, but as it wandered on it lost momentum.
There were some clever quips, though, such as:
'I shall not make a single travelling acquaintance!' I said to myself as I sat down--and I must say I was disappointed... However, I said nothing, of course, and found a certain amount of comfort in my soup.
And some insightful writing that resonated with me and my memories of exploring a different country for the first time:
And he always talked very impersonally. At first this struck me as a little cold and uninterested, but afterwards I liked it. It was like drinking a very nice kind of pure cold water--after the different flavours of personality I had always been accustomed to.
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The very names on the street corners held fascination enough, and each of them gave me the separate little thrill of the altogether unexpected. I had unconsciously believed that all these names were part of the vanished past I had connected them with, forgetting that in London names endure. (