alexandrec

the problem with weir mitchell's novels is that he doesn't seem to know how to end them. John Sherwood has a decent premise: disaffected ironmaster is diagnosed by his physician as dying of some consumptive somethingorother. he sells the business and moves to a remote woodland to "get back to nature" (typical of mitchell's "rest cure"). in his exile (i'm seeing a theme here), he gets entangled in the interesting lives of a variety of "squatters" on his property. through them he learns the joy of doing for others (and of course is cured of his ailments). one of the squatters, mr. hapworth is a lunatic who thinks he's killed his wife. though sherwood befriends him and looks to be making some progress with straightening the fellow out, his meddling cousin throws a wrench in the gears by inviting the decidedly not dead wife for a visit. wonderfully gruesome calamity ensues when hapworth goes after her with an axe. unfortunately, this climax happens with fifty pages or more left to be read: a long, blathering denouement in which sherwood and the crazy man's wife develop a precious bond and finally succumb to love. argh. really, mitchell, did you have to do it? i would rate this one above When all the Woods are Green, but still below Westways (and very much below Far in the Forest). it's not a horrid book and the characters, as usual, are interesting (though this novel struck me as more racist than the others in many ways). overall, an interesting read and with some cutting makes a very exciting story.

2022-11-14 13:40