Outermost, atop a row of other well-worn volumes, lies a partially read paperback edition of Carolyn Chute's 'The Beans of Egypt, Maine.' Farther from the center, apparently less primary in her life, are smaller collections: some Sylvia Townsend Warner, Colette, Flannery O'Connor, Anne Tyler, Vita Sackville-West.

Copies of her own works occupy one central shelf nearby are neat rows of Virginia Woolf's novels, letters and journals, and of Elizabeth Bowen's books. On her bookshelves volumes are sorted into compatible clusters. From the heavy, European farm-style furniture inherited from her parents to the stuffed toy animals that overpopulate the chairs and the sofas, the rooms and their belongings inspire a feeling of de'ja vu. To wander from library to living room to family room is to witness the extraordinary correspondence between the writer's work and her world. The house is a repository of keepsakes and treasures - all remembrances of connections, past and present. A visitor drives through twists and turns on dark, tree-flanked roads, eventually breaking out by a wide stretch of windswept sea, a shaggy meadow and Sarton's yellow clapboard house. May Sarton lives a carefully protected life in the secluded coastal outskirts of a small Maine village. You are much more able to function freely and spontaneously, as yourself.' There is much less anguish and self-doubt. 'Partly, you are more in control of your life. She always thought she would, and she eagerly pursues the subject - in her writing and in conversation. In fact, she 'loves' - emphatically loves - her age. 'I don't seem old, do I?' she asks, more out of curiosity than a need for reassurance. I just say to myself, 'Straighten up, Sarton!' ' Upon which, she vigorously pulls her body up to the fullest of its medium height.

Her appearance coincides with the publication of her most recent novel, 'The Magnificent Spinster,' a fictional biography of her great friend and seventh-grade teacher, Anne Thorp.Īnd she has a stoop - but, she says, moving about briskly in her kitchen, 'I've always had bad posture.

Sarton, author of 42 novels, journals, memoirs and books of poetry, will give a sold-out reading in Washington today as part of the Smithsonian's Resident Associate Program. I thought, you know, first Bramble will go, then Tamas, and then I, because we are a very closely knit little family.' She worries more about their deaths than her own: 'When the cat was so sick, I really went into a tailspin. And I think, but I'm 73!'Įven her companions - a cat, Bramble, and a sheltie, Tamas - are, relatively speaking, in their senior years.

May sarton solitude