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A Voice of Her Own: Becoming Emily Dickinson
When something is most important to me and I do not want to lose it, I gather it into a poem. It is said that women must employ the needle and not the pen. But I will be a Poet! That's who I am!
Before she was an iconic American poet, Emily Dickinson was a spirited girl eager to find her place in the world. Expected by family and friends to mold to the prescribed role for women in mid-1800s New England, Emily was challenged to define herself on her own terms.
Award-winning author Barbara Dana brilliantly imagines the girlhood of this extraordinary young woman, capturing the cadences of her unique voice and bringing her to radiant life.
Before she was an iconic American poet, Emily Dickinson was a spirited girl eager to find her place in the world. Expected by family and friends to mold to the prescribed role for women in mid-1800s New England, Emily was challenged to define herself on her own terms.
Award-winning author Barbara Dana brilliantly imagines the girlhood of this extraordinary young woman, capturing the cadences of her unique voice and bringing her to radiant life.
368 pages, Kindle Edition
First published February 24, 2009
17 people are currently reading
355 people want to read
About the author
Barbara Dana
12 books11 followersBARBARA DANA is an award-winning author of books for children and young adults. Her books include Zucchini, Zucchini Out West, Crazy Eights, Necessary Parties, Rutgers and the Water Snouts, Spencer and his Friends and Young Joan, a historical novel based on the life of Joan of Arc. Her new novel, A Voice of Her Own: Becoming Emily Dickinson, is available March 1, 2009 (HarperCollins Publishers).
She is the co-editor of the recent release, Wider than the Sky: Essays and Meditations on the Healing Power of Emily Dickinson. She co-wrote the television adaptation of her novel, Necessary Parties, for PBS.
Other screenplays include Chu-Chu and the Philly Flash, and T.G.I.F. Her first play, War in Paramus, premiered in New York in the fall of 2005 at Abingdon Theatre Company directed by Austin Pendleton.
She is an actor as well as an author, having appeared on stage, screen and television since the age of sixteen."
She is the co-editor of the recent release, Wider than the Sky: Essays and Meditations on the Healing Power of Emily Dickinson. She co-wrote the television adaptation of her novel, Necessary Parties, for PBS.
Other screenplays include Chu-Chu and the Philly Flash, and T.G.I.F. Her first play, War in Paramus, premiered in New York in the fall of 2005 at Abingdon Theatre Company directed by Austin Pendleton.
She is an actor as well as an author, having appeared on stage, screen and television since the age of sixteen."
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 49 reviews
October 28, 2011
Emily is a dreamer, a writer, and a poet. Determined to be true to herself.
If she can only figure out what that means. Does it require hurling herself into the arms of God? Or daring to submit a valentine into dreaded “publication?” Does it mandate that she plunge herself into marriage like her girlhood friends from Amherst, New England? Or fall victim to the ever present symptoms of influenza—or possibly . . . consumption?
Death is everywhere. But also beauty. And nature. And her own dog!
Not to mention best friends, gossip, boys.
And the absolute need to determine her own destiny.
Because to Emily “Life is too Large a thing to spend it withering in a corner—dusting!”
I LOVE that quote! A Voice of Her Own is a YA fictional biography about one the greatest poets in American history: Emily Dickinson. The novel is lively, haunting, joyous, terrifying, and vibrant. Barbara Dana does a beautiful job developing the details of Dickinson’s family and hometown; but it is Emily’s voice that dominates the book. A voice well worth hearing.
If she can only figure out what that means. Does it require hurling herself into the arms of God? Or daring to submit a valentine into dreaded “publication?” Does it mandate that she plunge herself into marriage like her girlhood friends from Amherst, New England? Or fall victim to the ever present symptoms of influenza—or possibly . . . consumption?
Death is everywhere. But also beauty. And nature. And her own dog!
Not to mention best friends, gossip, boys.
And the absolute need to determine her own destiny.
Because to Emily “Life is too Large a thing to spend it withering in a corner—dusting!”
I LOVE that quote! A Voice of Her Own is a YA fictional biography about one the greatest poets in American history: Emily Dickinson. The novel is lively, haunting, joyous, terrifying, and vibrant. Barbara Dana does a beautiful job developing the details of Dickinson’s family and hometown; but it is Emily’s voice that dominates the book. A voice well worth hearing.
June 23, 2012
I finished this one out of sheer force of will and desire to be done with it. Had I not been reading this for a class I would have put it down. There just wasn't much of a plot, it was just moments of Emily Dickinson growing up. Yes, there was the overarching theme of her developing her identity as a poet, but that was it. The book didn't build up to anything; it just kind of was. I realize that real life is not always as adventurous as the books I like to read and Emily's growing up years may have been rather average, but that doesn't mean it has to be boring. Laura Ingllas led a typical pioneer life, but her Little House on the Prairie books are excellent. Something is always happening and you grow attached to the characters. I couldn't connect to Emily or anyone else in the book and it moved so slowly.
My other major complaint is that the voice was inappropriate until the last third of the book. The book follows Emily from age 9 to 24, but the whole time she sounded like an adult. I think Dana was going for the effect of Emily looking back on her life and writing her own memoir, but it just didn't work. In the younger chapters the 9 year-old dialogue clashed horribly with the adult reminisces. Once she reached about age 17 the voices reconciled, but before then she sounded like an adult in a child's body and that drove me up the wall.
I'll give Dana some credit; the book was well researched. I don't know Dickinson's poet voice well enough to say whether or not Dana matched it in the novel. There was an abundance of reminiscing about Death, lots of dashes, and capitalized words. I did appreciate Emily's enthusiasm for life and nature.
Maybe I just wasn't in the mood for a real to live biography, but I still think this book could have been done better.
My other major complaint is that the voice was inappropriate until the last third of the book. The book follows Emily from age 9 to 24, but the whole time she sounded like an adult. I think Dana was going for the effect of Emily looking back on her life and writing her own memoir, but it just didn't work. In the younger chapters the 9 year-old dialogue clashed horribly with the adult reminisces. Once she reached about age 17 the voices reconciled, but before then she sounded like an adult in a child's body and that drove me up the wall.
I'll give Dana some credit; the book was well researched. I don't know Dickinson's poet voice well enough to say whether or not Dana matched it in the novel. There was an abundance of reminiscing about Death, lots of dashes, and capitalized words. I did appreciate Emily's enthusiasm for life and nature.
Maybe I just wasn't in the mood for a real to live biography, but I still think this book could have been done better.
November 8, 2012
Reviewed by Cat for TeensReadToo.com
Despite a huge body of work and lifetime's worth of correspondence she left behind, Emily Dickinson remains an enigma in many people's minds. Why was she so preoccupied with death? Why did she choose to not marry in an era when most women did so to the exclusion of all other pursuits? What drove her to write more than one thousand poems, yet never seek publication for her work?
By immersing herself in Emily's poetry, prose, surroundings, and numerous biographies, Barbara Dana seeks to answer these questions in a first-person, fictional narrative of Emily's life from age eleven to twenty-four.
A VOICE OF HER OWN portrays Emily as a vivid, social, intelligent child; spending days and nights with family and friends, tramping about the idyllic town of Amherst, Massachusetts. Despite numerous bouts of illness, anxiety attacks, depressions, and the frequent loss of loved ones, Emily always retained a passion for the natural world, not to mention a fierce drive to improve both academically and as a poet.
It took a long time to read this novel, not because I didn't enjoy it; quite the opposite in fact, because A VOICE OF HER OWN became my daily treat of Godiva chocolates. Whenever I wanted a quiet moment to savor the beauty of nature, or revel in contemplation of a slower-paced way of life, I'd pull out Barbara Dana's book and dip into the possibilities surrounding Emily Dickinson's formative years.
Ms. Dana did a superb job of capturing Emily's voice and spirit, making this novel a truly joyful read and definitely one for the keeper shelf.
Despite a huge body of work and lifetime's worth of correspondence she left behind, Emily Dickinson remains an enigma in many people's minds. Why was she so preoccupied with death? Why did she choose to not marry in an era when most women did so to the exclusion of all other pursuits? What drove her to write more than one thousand poems, yet never seek publication for her work?
By immersing herself in Emily's poetry, prose, surroundings, and numerous biographies, Barbara Dana seeks to answer these questions in a first-person, fictional narrative of Emily's life from age eleven to twenty-four.
A VOICE OF HER OWN portrays Emily as a vivid, social, intelligent child; spending days and nights with family and friends, tramping about the idyllic town of Amherst, Massachusetts. Despite numerous bouts of illness, anxiety attacks, depressions, and the frequent loss of loved ones, Emily always retained a passion for the natural world, not to mention a fierce drive to improve both academically and as a poet.
It took a long time to read this novel, not because I didn't enjoy it; quite the opposite in fact, because A VOICE OF HER OWN became my daily treat of Godiva chocolates. Whenever I wanted a quiet moment to savor the beauty of nature, or revel in contemplation of a slower-paced way of life, I'd pull out Barbara Dana's book and dip into the possibilities surrounding Emily Dickinson's formative years.
Ms. Dana did a superb job of capturing Emily's voice and spirit, making this novel a truly joyful read and definitely one for the keeper shelf.
September 17, 2020
When something is most important to me and I do not want to lose it, I gather it into a poem. It is said that women must employ the needle and not the pen. But I will be a Poet! That's who I am!
Before she was an iconic American poet, Emily Dickinson was a spirited girl eager to find her place in the world. Expected by family and friends to mold to the prescribed role for women in mid-1800s New England, Emily was challenged to define herself on her own terms.
Award-winning author Barbara Dana brilliantly imagines the girlhood of this extraordinary young woman, capturing the cadences of her unique voice and bringing her to radiant life.
Before she was an iconic American poet, Emily Dickinson was a spirited girl eager to find her place in the world. Expected by family and friends to mold to the prescribed role for women in mid-1800s New England, Emily was challenged to define herself on her own terms.
Award-winning author Barbara Dana brilliantly imagines the girlhood of this extraordinary young woman, capturing the cadences of her unique voice and bringing her to radiant life.
April 29, 2023
A perfect example of why I would rather read a biography than historical fiction about real people, most of the time.
December 26, 2023
Some passages I liked:
P. 75 on writing poetry
I was sick most of the summer. However, once strong enough to lift my head from the pillow, I wrote a poem. It had been on my mind those half-awake days I heard a dog bark, demanding of something he felt the right to have. I could hear it in the bark. He-I assumed it to be a male dog-wanted it. It belonged to him. He had lost patience with the situation. His birthright was being ignored. He could be said to be at his "wits' end," a phrase I learned from Mother. As I listened I fashioned myself a part of that dog-not fashioned really. It was not a think- ing matter. I felt I was with that dog-in that dog-more a sudden happening than a make-believe game. We were one and I smiled all alone upon the sheets and no one there to see. I was at rest and alive at the selfsame moment. It was the grandest feeling! I had very much enjoyed composing my few poems before that day, my compositions as well, but this was different. I was in my place.
P. 120 on her mother and being a woman
Mother was working on a beautiful embroidery, a sum mer scene containing a measure of pastoral beauty as to be quite thrilling. The pattern was entirely her own. It never ceases to startle me when the depth of Mother's spirit makes itself known. It bursts forth from a hiberna tion so deep, one cannot help but wonder if it ever lived at all. Yet there it is, imagination, power, the will to have a voice of her own! It takes my breath away! And all that soon again to slumber, given up for dead, locked tight behind the narrow walls of convention, of Fear, of think- ing only of others and no Self left to do the thinking Obligation only. No thought abounds-a wooden way of pleasing Father, keeping his house, making no trouble, forgetting her wishes, ignoring her pleasure. The clothes are clean, the pie is hot, but where is she? I longed for her, and most especially so after such an unexpected glimpse into her deepest Self, where we could be-and were-as one. Spare me the agony of "living" as Mother! Grant me a straighter way!
P. 133 on religion
Revivals were sweeping through the Connecticut Valley like the plague. Abiah joined the church that year, as did others of my friends, and I on the shore, waving a fare- well hand to the boatload of friends and family bound for a place I could not see. Not only that, the place had claimed a piece of their Souls, precious not only to them but necessary to our connection. I was happy they should know "the peace of God, which passeth all understanding," but I could not give myself away- not to anyone! It seems to me that my Self is all I truly have-my one accompaniment to the grave-the most supreme gift of a generous God. The mind thinks its own thoughts-mine does at any rate. It wants to make its own sense of things, not always to follow. It wants to question. How does it seem to me? The question I had as a child remained. Why would God give me a brain and ask me not to use it? It made no sense. The mind and its beating partner-the one that so easily may break- are our greatest gifts. I could not give them up! I was only just beginning to know my Self-different, frail but strong, a lover of words, of Nature, of hills and sunsets, girl friends and Whiskers, laughing and music! To spend my days waiting for a Larger time, to give my Self away to anyone, be they neighbor, stranger, Reverend or King-it matters little-the very exercise defies Nature. I fear I may be ungrateful. But to receive a mind and heart and not to use them-that seems lacking in gratitude! I have seen the peace behind the eyes of those who have given themselves to Christ in exchange for his protection. I would claim that peace if it spoke in the center of my beating heart, but that has not been the case. I wait and listen.
P. 168 on "the dash"
I will now quote my grammar book, an irksome com- panion during my stay at Mt Holyoke. The book is called English Grammar, a bold assumption if I ever heard one, and is said to have been written by a certain Lindley Murray-or Murray Lindley-I forget which. I quote: "The dash, though often used improperly by hasty and incoherent writers, may be used with propriety, where the sentence breaks off abruptly; where a significant pause is required; or when there is an unexpected turn in the sentiment."
When I think of my love for the dash I fear I join the ranks of the improper, hasty and incoherent writers sprinkled carelessly about the globe like so many errant pebbles. But I love it so-its liveliness, its thrust, its envi able ability to include a thought, yet separate that same just far enough from its preceding colleagues to keep the meaning straight. Its boldness, its daring, its sense of aban don! And the freedom, the effortless flow. Why, it takes my breath away! I doubtless express my thoughts with the utmost impropriety. No matter. It will have to do.
P. 203 on Emerson's poetry
"Do you know the poems of Emerson?" Ben asks.
"No," I answer. "I know that a man named Emerson wrote some essays, but have not read them." Ben takes a small book from the pocket of his coat, opens it and begins to read. I shall never forget that moment. It is as if the top of my head has come off. My skin is on fire. I am frozen at the bone. I have been picked up and delivered to a quiet spring where things "are" merely. I am Home-home to Myself-that region from which one must begin if one is to find any sort of real Life at all. I am nourished in a few small Words! A Miracle! To banish the darkness, to lift a Soul, to give it wings-its Own wings, not thoughts plucked from another's brain, but light and air, safety and rest, Circumference without edge-Infinity! His knowing touched my own- There is more to life than we can see.
As a child I sensed this. The fact had lived within me-a basement tenant-due in part to the measure of its importance and the risk of its revelation too great, lest its declaration offend.
There is more to life than we can see. I am trembling now.
Will you read another?" I ask.
" Ben turns a page. ""Give all to love; Obey thy heart." I want to be a Poet!
The thought rang through my Soul! My brain was flooded with the precious knowledge of what somewhere it already knew. That's who I am! That's what I want to do! Now I remember!
P. 266 on how to see
We had taken up a favorite game of ours called Observation. We had both been enjoying its basic precepts informally for some time, but shortly after meeting we designed a formal structure to the affair. Artists of any persuasion must see life before attempting to express their sense of it. This had been Susie's point to me the day we designed the game. She said the best painters see, as do the best sculptors, dancers, musicians and all. It may be said that musicians must bear, but consider Beethoven, deaf to sound without, yet hearing within, all the senses alive with the glory of life and the Pain- seeing it All! So it is with every artist. And Poets are no exception!
The game goes like this. One person mentions a thing she sees. The small things are best as they are often the most telling. Upon hearing the thing mentioned, the other looks at that selfsame and mentions her next thought. It can build from there, but it don't have to.
Mr. Stubbins turned right on Main Street. "He will need to lie down when he gets home," I said as he passed out of sight, taking his burden with him.
At the north end of the common two cows lay side by side in the mud. Frances was the smaller of the two, black and white, not full-grown, while Clarissa, her white coat brown with mud, had met her lasting weight. They lounged contentedly, their mouths in timeless cross- round chews as we approached. "Frances and Clarissa are in their summer spot," I observed.
"Winter on the rise, summer in the mud," said Sue.
"And peace in the ever-returning familiar." That was my comment. Was it not poetical?
P. 286 on the thing with feathers
I have met with many bouts of low spirits. I don't know what to do about it and so I go on singing and hope for the best. Hope is a bird, arrival unnoticed until there!-perched quiet on the shoulder. No, not on the shoulder, in the Soul! Sometimes the wind blows so cold and the night comes so dark, one thinks there will never be a single thing in this World to look forward to And then, sure as Day, that little bird returns, chirping the sweetest melody, and all is well! I must write a verse about that.
P. 316 God is a poet
He continues, Clarity, Common Sense, Wonderment, Daring-all reign supreme! And such power to console! He knows pain. He is hopeful in spite of the knowing.
My thoughts tumble end over end.
His spirit is large from overcoming. He admits the tiny bird that comes again and still and never fails to come.
"Help comes in many forms," he continues. "We must only look for it."
Yes.
"We find it in the sunrise, in an unexpected kindness, in a poem."
My blood runs cold.
"Poet means Creator."
My tears come over the dam.
"The poet can heal."
Handkerchief to brimming eyes. "The poet can light the way."
He tells a joke. The congregation is laughing. He pulls a severe face, mock disapproval at such inappropriate expression. Silence. No one stirs. And then-a smile to light the Heavens! The congregants are laughing. My Soul is inside out.
I love him! (Rev. Wadsworth)
P. 326 assembling the fragments of my Self
I suppose the same could be said for yours truly, though I make every effort that it not be so. I walk a careful way with Father. In many ways I have pleased him without mean ing to. I am well educated, yet do not use this education outside his House. I have strong convictions, but keep to myself all those in danger of falling into that dreaded territory of opposition to his own. I am at Home-in his House-where I long to be, with those I love-available to cheer his heart and bake his bread. It is, I suppose, a good arrangement, though in some ways it is just that-an arrangement. Not a very passionate way of life. And yet I have my Poems! Therein explodes my innermost life! My All! At the end of the day I assemble the fragments of my Self, gathered on scraps amid my daily labors. And who knows? One day my poems may reach outside his House. That will be-or not-as the wind decides. To be alive is so chief a thing! I do believe that is the truth-and we all know Truth is the thing that lasts.
P. 75 on writing poetry
I was sick most of the summer. However, once strong enough to lift my head from the pillow, I wrote a poem. It had been on my mind those half-awake days I heard a dog bark, demanding of something he felt the right to have. I could hear it in the bark. He-I assumed it to be a male dog-wanted it. It belonged to him. He had lost patience with the situation. His birthright was being ignored. He could be said to be at his "wits' end," a phrase I learned from Mother. As I listened I fashioned myself a part of that dog-not fashioned really. It was not a think- ing matter. I felt I was with that dog-in that dog-more a sudden happening than a make-believe game. We were one and I smiled all alone upon the sheets and no one there to see. I was at rest and alive at the selfsame moment. It was the grandest feeling! I had very much enjoyed composing my few poems before that day, my compositions as well, but this was different. I was in my place.
P. 120 on her mother and being a woman
Mother was working on a beautiful embroidery, a sum mer scene containing a measure of pastoral beauty as to be quite thrilling. The pattern was entirely her own. It never ceases to startle me when the depth of Mother's spirit makes itself known. It bursts forth from a hiberna tion so deep, one cannot help but wonder if it ever lived at all. Yet there it is, imagination, power, the will to have a voice of her own! It takes my breath away! And all that soon again to slumber, given up for dead, locked tight behind the narrow walls of convention, of Fear, of think- ing only of others and no Self left to do the thinking Obligation only. No thought abounds-a wooden way of pleasing Father, keeping his house, making no trouble, forgetting her wishes, ignoring her pleasure. The clothes are clean, the pie is hot, but where is she? I longed for her, and most especially so after such an unexpected glimpse into her deepest Self, where we could be-and were-as one. Spare me the agony of "living" as Mother! Grant me a straighter way!
P. 133 on religion
Revivals were sweeping through the Connecticut Valley like the plague. Abiah joined the church that year, as did others of my friends, and I on the shore, waving a fare- well hand to the boatload of friends and family bound for a place I could not see. Not only that, the place had claimed a piece of their Souls, precious not only to them but necessary to our connection. I was happy they should know "the peace of God, which passeth all understanding," but I could not give myself away- not to anyone! It seems to me that my Self is all I truly have-my one accompaniment to the grave-the most supreme gift of a generous God. The mind thinks its own thoughts-mine does at any rate. It wants to make its own sense of things, not always to follow. It wants to question. How does it seem to me? The question I had as a child remained. Why would God give me a brain and ask me not to use it? It made no sense. The mind and its beating partner-the one that so easily may break- are our greatest gifts. I could not give them up! I was only just beginning to know my Self-different, frail but strong, a lover of words, of Nature, of hills and sunsets, girl friends and Whiskers, laughing and music! To spend my days waiting for a Larger time, to give my Self away to anyone, be they neighbor, stranger, Reverend or King-it matters little-the very exercise defies Nature. I fear I may be ungrateful. But to receive a mind and heart and not to use them-that seems lacking in gratitude! I have seen the peace behind the eyes of those who have given themselves to Christ in exchange for his protection. I would claim that peace if it spoke in the center of my beating heart, but that has not been the case. I wait and listen.
P. 168 on "the dash"
I will now quote my grammar book, an irksome com- panion during my stay at Mt Holyoke. The book is called English Grammar, a bold assumption if I ever heard one, and is said to have been written by a certain Lindley Murray-or Murray Lindley-I forget which. I quote: "The dash, though often used improperly by hasty and incoherent writers, may be used with propriety, where the sentence breaks off abruptly; where a significant pause is required; or when there is an unexpected turn in the sentiment."
When I think of my love for the dash I fear I join the ranks of the improper, hasty and incoherent writers sprinkled carelessly about the globe like so many errant pebbles. But I love it so-its liveliness, its thrust, its envi able ability to include a thought, yet separate that same just far enough from its preceding colleagues to keep the meaning straight. Its boldness, its daring, its sense of aban don! And the freedom, the effortless flow. Why, it takes my breath away! I doubtless express my thoughts with the utmost impropriety. No matter. It will have to do.
P. 203 on Emerson's poetry
"Do you know the poems of Emerson?" Ben asks.
"No," I answer. "I know that a man named Emerson wrote some essays, but have not read them." Ben takes a small book from the pocket of his coat, opens it and begins to read. I shall never forget that moment. It is as if the top of my head has come off. My skin is on fire. I am frozen at the bone. I have been picked up and delivered to a quiet spring where things "are" merely. I am Home-home to Myself-that region from which one must begin if one is to find any sort of real Life at all. I am nourished in a few small Words! A Miracle! To banish the darkness, to lift a Soul, to give it wings-its Own wings, not thoughts plucked from another's brain, but light and air, safety and rest, Circumference without edge-Infinity! His knowing touched my own- There is more to life than we can see.
As a child I sensed this. The fact had lived within me-a basement tenant-due in part to the measure of its importance and the risk of its revelation too great, lest its declaration offend.
There is more to life than we can see. I am trembling now.
Will you read another?" I ask.
" Ben turns a page. ""Give all to love; Obey thy heart." I want to be a Poet!
The thought rang through my Soul! My brain was flooded with the precious knowledge of what somewhere it already knew. That's who I am! That's what I want to do! Now I remember!
P. 266 on how to see
We had taken up a favorite game of ours called Observation. We had both been enjoying its basic precepts informally for some time, but shortly after meeting we designed a formal structure to the affair. Artists of any persuasion must see life before attempting to express their sense of it. This had been Susie's point to me the day we designed the game. She said the best painters see, as do the best sculptors, dancers, musicians and all. It may be said that musicians must bear, but consider Beethoven, deaf to sound without, yet hearing within, all the senses alive with the glory of life and the Pain- seeing it All! So it is with every artist. And Poets are no exception!
The game goes like this. One person mentions a thing she sees. The small things are best as they are often the most telling. Upon hearing the thing mentioned, the other looks at that selfsame and mentions her next thought. It can build from there, but it don't have to.
Mr. Stubbins turned right on Main Street. "He will need to lie down when he gets home," I said as he passed out of sight, taking his burden with him.
At the north end of the common two cows lay side by side in the mud. Frances was the smaller of the two, black and white, not full-grown, while Clarissa, her white coat brown with mud, had met her lasting weight. They lounged contentedly, their mouths in timeless cross- round chews as we approached. "Frances and Clarissa are in their summer spot," I observed.
"Winter on the rise, summer in the mud," said Sue.
"And peace in the ever-returning familiar." That was my comment. Was it not poetical?
P. 286 on the thing with feathers
I have met with many bouts of low spirits. I don't know what to do about it and so I go on singing and hope for the best. Hope is a bird, arrival unnoticed until there!-perched quiet on the shoulder. No, not on the shoulder, in the Soul! Sometimes the wind blows so cold and the night comes so dark, one thinks there will never be a single thing in this World to look forward to And then, sure as Day, that little bird returns, chirping the sweetest melody, and all is well! I must write a verse about that.
P. 316 God is a poet
He continues, Clarity, Common Sense, Wonderment, Daring-all reign supreme! And such power to console! He knows pain. He is hopeful in spite of the knowing.
My thoughts tumble end over end.
His spirit is large from overcoming. He admits the tiny bird that comes again and still and never fails to come.
"Help comes in many forms," he continues. "We must only look for it."
Yes.
"We find it in the sunrise, in an unexpected kindness, in a poem."
My blood runs cold.
"Poet means Creator."
My tears come over the dam.
"The poet can heal."
Handkerchief to brimming eyes. "The poet can light the way."
He tells a joke. The congregation is laughing. He pulls a severe face, mock disapproval at such inappropriate expression. Silence. No one stirs. And then-a smile to light the Heavens! The congregants are laughing. My Soul is inside out.
I love him! (Rev. Wadsworth)
P. 326 assembling the fragments of my Self
I suppose the same could be said for yours truly, though I make every effort that it not be so. I walk a careful way with Father. In many ways I have pleased him without mean ing to. I am well educated, yet do not use this education outside his House. I have strong convictions, but keep to myself all those in danger of falling into that dreaded territory of opposition to his own. I am at Home-in his House-where I long to be, with those I love-available to cheer his heart and bake his bread. It is, I suppose, a good arrangement, though in some ways it is just that-an arrangement. Not a very passionate way of life. And yet I have my Poems! Therein explodes my innermost life! My All! At the end of the day I assemble the fragments of my Self, gathered on scraps amid my daily labors. And who knows? One day my poems may reach outside his House. That will be-or not-as the wind decides. To be alive is so chief a thing! I do believe that is the truth-and we all know Truth is the thing that lasts.
April 29, 2010
The book "A Voice of Her Own: Becoming Emily Dickinson" by author Barbara Dana tells about the childhood and early life of the famous poet Emily Dickinson. It describes her struggle to become a poet and the restrictions which everyone in her life, especially her father, put on her. In the story, she also describes her thoughts on religion (the parts of Christianity that she accepts and agrees with and the parts that she disagrees with), and marriage. According to this book, Dickinson loved and cherished her family, yet could not express to them that she wanted to be a poet, with the exception of her brother. Later on in the book, however, she could not even trust her brother anymore, but found two other characters with whom she shared a passion for writing, and who enjoyed reading her poems and supported her.
I would recommend this book to readers who enjoy historical fiction and enjoy composing poems and essays, as Emily Dickinson did. Since this is a first-person narrative, the author writes in a slightly different way to describe Emily Dickinson 's thoughts and emotions, many times capitalizing some letters that are otherwise usually not capitalized, and using more exclamation points than needed. In my opinion, this improves the book because this type of writing seems to me to be very similar to the way that a person such as Emily Dickinson would think. A few examples of Dickinson 's poems are also included throughout the book, which makes the story more realistic and more interesting.
I would recommend this book to readers who enjoy historical fiction and enjoy composing poems and essays, as Emily Dickinson did. Since this is a first-person narrative, the author writes in a slightly different way to describe Emily Dickinson 's thoughts and emotions, many times capitalizing some letters that are otherwise usually not capitalized, and using more exclamation points than needed. In my opinion, this improves the book because this type of writing seems to me to be very similar to the way that a person such as Emily Dickinson would think. A few examples of Dickinson 's poems are also included throughout the book, which makes the story more realistic and more interesting.
June 16, 2009
The form of first-person narrative seems totally appropriate for an actress, accustomed to taking on a role, to adopt as a writer. This memoir is totally believable - it does seem to capture Dickinson's voice and likely thoughts: the frequent use of exclamation points, the quiet personal confession of pride or jealous feelings, the astonishment at even little things in the natural world. I appreciate its presentation as fictional.
The story moves slowly, as did their world. It's hard to imagine today the 19th century world described - the dirt roads, the cows on the common, the very small town that Amherst was. Dickinson's father does not come off well, although he was certainly characteristic of the times. Her doubts about Original Sin and the need to explicitly "become a Christian" make up quite a large part of her reflections, no doubt as a result of the continual pressure of the Revival movement of the times. I'm assuming this is justified by the writings Dana consulted. It does make you want to turn straight to the poetry.
The story moves slowly, as did their world. It's hard to imagine today the 19th century world described - the dirt roads, the cows on the common, the very small town that Amherst was. Dickinson's father does not come off well, although he was certainly characteristic of the times. Her doubts about Original Sin and the need to explicitly "become a Christian" make up quite a large part of her reflections, no doubt as a result of the continual pressure of the Revival movement of the times. I'm assuming this is justified by the writings Dana consulted. It does make you want to turn straight to the poetry.
June 23, 2009
Author Barbara Dana immersed herself over a ten year period in the life and words of Emily Dickinson so she could give us a look at what it must have been like to be this extraordinary and spirited girl growing up in the 1800’s in New England.
Emily wrote: “There is always one thing to be grateful for—that one is one’s self and not somebody else.” (This is on a page following the title page.)
In an era when men were the ones who got the best educations, made the family decisions, chose their careers and their mates and the women stuck to the role prescribed for them by men , gentle and obedient Emily was determined to find her own place in the world. She wanted to write poetry whether or not her father accepted the idea. She said,” I will be a Poet! That’s who I am!”
I believe girls age 11- 17 will enjoy this story that captures Emily’s humor and the cadences of her unique voice. They will identify with her sense of adventure, her love of words, and her determination to not lose herself when pressured by others around her.
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April 13, 2013This really has nothing to do with the book; more with reviews of this book. A few salient points:
1. There is no such thing as "fictional biography." That is called historical fiction.
2. There is no such thing as a fictional memoir, especially of a historic figure who didn't write it. That is also called historical fiction.
3. While we're on the topic, there is no such thing as a fictional novel. It is simply a novel, or fiction.
To sum up, nonfiction ≠ fiction. Are we clear?
/rant
1. There is no such thing as "fictional biography." That is called historical fiction.
2. There is no such thing as a fictional memoir, especially of a historic figure who didn't write it. That is also called historical fiction.
3. While we're on the topic, there is no such thing as a fictional novel. It is simply a novel, or fiction.
To sum up, nonfiction ≠ fiction. Are we clear?
/rant
April 2, 2009
I have to give the author a lot of credit for all the research that she did to create this book, but I don't feel that the time spent was worth the finished result.
February 17, 2023
I love Emily Dickinson, even though her poetry often leaves me puzzled. I still read it extensively, because it touches me in a way I cannot explain. I also love her story, or at least, her story as I imagine it. This book reinforces my conclusions that Emily Dickinson's life was not that of a victim-- she made deliberate decisions about whom to see, where to live (at HOME), and what to dedicate herself too-- her poetry. The amazing poetry didn't "just happen." She snatched every moment and thought and recorded them on scraps of paper throughout her day. Then she would sit at her small, square table in her room at night, crafting those thoughts into her amazing poems. She made the deliberate decision to write poetry-- to be a poet!
The author covers the years 1840-1855, the fifteen years that the Dickinson family lived in "Pleasant House on Pleasant Street" in Amherst. Emily lived in "The Homestead," her family home for the rest of her years (1830- 1886). In these years, Emily found her true "self." It is a wonderful coming of age story. Dana has captured what I would imagine Emily Dickinson's voice to be.
The author covers the years 1840-1855, the fifteen years that the Dickinson family lived in "Pleasant House on Pleasant Street" in Amherst. Emily lived in "The Homestead," her family home for the rest of her years (1830- 1886). In these years, Emily found her true "self." It is a wonderful coming of age story. Dana has captured what I would imagine Emily Dickinson's voice to be.
August 23, 2018
This is an amazing book about Emily Dickinson that the author crafted via her extensive study of Emily, trips to Amherst and The Dickinson home, and actually retracing the places Emily visited. What ensued is a wonderful piece of historical fiction about Emily's life through young adulthood. Barbara Dana presented the essence of Emily Dickinson and her family in every sense of the word. I highly recommend this enjoyable and informative read to all Dickinson fans and anyone wanting to learn more about Emily.
February 6, 2021
The writing in this book is absolutely beautiful. The author's note at the end, describing all the research she did into Emily Dickinson's life made me have an even deeper appreciation for the book. As someone who has always felt different from those around me, not fitting in with current trends and social norms, instead finding peace in solitude with my animals, my garden, and my home, this book made me feel like I made a new friend in young Emily.
January 19, 2019
A terrific accomplishment for this author who dedicated 10 years to researching and writing for this book. This challenges me to write and truly find my voice as well. I feel sad for the poet Emily who seemed to live with much fear and anxiety. It’s sad she didn’t marry.
June 12, 2017
DNF- Or more aptly put this was a skim book. UGH, 326 pages of mostly inner dialoguing… could not stomach it which is sad because I had such high hopes for this book.
December 5, 2024
Clearly based on loving research, but did not hang together as a compelling voice or story arc.
December 2, 2009
When something is most important to me and I do not want to lose it, I gather it into a poem. It is said that women must employ the needle and not the pen.
But I will be a Poet! That's who I am!
Before she was an iconic American poet, Emily Dickinson was a spirited girl eager to find her place in the world. Expected by family and friends to mold
to the prescribed role for women in mid-1800s New England, Emily was challenged to define herself on her own terms.
Award-winning author Barbara Dana brilliantly imagines the girlhood of this extraordinary young woman, capturing the cadences of her unique voice and bringing
her to radiant life.
I have always loved Emily dickinson and it had not faded over the years, but it had faded into the background. This book brought it all back out, though and has inspired me to pick up E.D.'s works again. A Young Adult book that can do that is pure delight in my book.
But I will be a Poet! That's who I am!
Before she was an iconic American poet, Emily Dickinson was a spirited girl eager to find her place in the world. Expected by family and friends to mold
to the prescribed role for women in mid-1800s New England, Emily was challenged to define herself on her own terms.
Award-winning author Barbara Dana brilliantly imagines the girlhood of this extraordinary young woman, capturing the cadences of her unique voice and bringing
her to radiant life.
I have always loved Emily dickinson and it had not faded over the years, but it had faded into the background. This book brought it all back out, though and has inspired me to pick up E.D.'s works again. A Young Adult book that can do that is pure delight in my book.
September 8, 2011
I loved the language of the novel and a lot of the imagery, but that only carried me through the first third of the book. After that, the plot seemed to go in circles, never really going anywhere. I guess that's inevitable when you are writing about someone's life (you can't just make stuff up, after all, and in real life there's no tidy story arc, with a climax at just the right point), but after a while, it got old. I wanted to say, "okay, get to the point already. What, you don't have one?!"
Bravo to Ms. Dana, however, for all the research she put into this book. It was obvious that she was very familiar with not just the life, but also the voice of Emily Dickinson. I would have given this book two stars if not for all her efforts, which I appreciate. I think it's a story worth telling, and I can see where there would be an appreciative audience for this book. I guess I just wasn't patient enough for it.
Bravo to Ms. Dana, however, for all the research she put into this book. It was obvious that she was very familiar with not just the life, but also the voice of Emily Dickinson. I would have given this book two stars if not for all her efforts, which I appreciate. I think it's a story worth telling, and I can see where there would be an appreciative audience for this book. I guess I just wasn't patient enough for it.
November 2, 2014
Sadly ironic that my least favorite thing about "A Voice of Her Own" was the voice. A fictionalized account of Emily Dickinson's life from about 9 - 22, the voice never changes. It seems very inappropriate in her younger years ... who talks the same way at age 9 as at age 20? Also, the author's attempt weave "Emily-ism" into the dialogue comes off contrived. It just does not work. I also thought the author did little to create a narrative worthy of the Great Poet. She led a quiet life, she suffered from anxiety, her parents were controlling worry-warts (no wonder she was anxious), and she wanted to be a Poet not a married woman of her time (with all the limitations and expectations that came with that choice). This is all there is, without any real insight or story, for 300 pages. The best part of the book was the Author's Note at the end, which discussed Emily's life and makes me want to read her letters. Perhaps the author should have written a biography instead.
July 11, 2012
This book was decent. It wasn't fantastic or life-changing, and I probably won't ever read it again. However, it was a venture from my normal fantasy reading, and thus worthwhile.
I suppose my main thought on it was that it didn't feel like Emily Dickenson. Not that it felt like someone else, it just felt like... a story. It could have been any girl from that time period who like to think deeply and write. There was no need to make it Emily, a fact that actually almost turned me off the book (I'm not a Dickenson fan). It was a light, fairly enjoyable read about a girl becoming a young woman and figuring out how to be her own person. I think. I've never been great with themes...
Anyway, it was a pleasant, fairly easy read.
I suppose my main thought on it was that it didn't feel like Emily Dickenson. Not that it felt like someone else, it just felt like... a story. It could have been any girl from that time period who like to think deeply and write. There was no need to make it Emily, a fact that actually almost turned me off the book (I'm not a Dickenson fan). It was a light, fairly enjoyable read about a girl becoming a young woman and figuring out how to be her own person. I think. I've never been great with themes...
Anyway, it was a pleasant, fairly easy read.
January 23, 2010
This book is very well done. I would have given it a higher rating except that I'm not into this kind of book.
If you like Dickensian (Charles) literature (long sections of descriptive text), or like long sections of 1st person narrative, this is the book for you. Much of this book explores how Emily D. would have seen the world. And the author is very effective in her writing. I, however, skipped much of the text because my mind was wandering.
If you like Dickensian (Charles) literature (long sections of descriptive text), or like long sections of 1st person narrative, this is the book for you. Much of this book explores how Emily D. would have seen the world. And the author is very effective in her writing. I, however, skipped much of the text because my mind was wandering.
June 17, 2009
I appreciated Dana's research and the amount of information readers will gain from this book. I found the book to be quite slow much of the time, though, and couldn't imagine younger readers sticking with it until the end. A VOICE OF HER OWN seems more suited to adult readers who are already E.D. fans.
January 1, 2010
Ok if you had to read a book about Emily Dickinson or if you LOVE slow, period piece Americana novels then it would garner a higher rating. For everyone else just looking for appealing historical fiction it is a bit boring but frankly probably more historically accurate (in depictions of home life, the community etc.). I don’t see a huge teen appeal here.
December 22, 2012
Not bad for young adult audience. The ending kind of fell apart for me, timeline was a bit sketchy at times in the last 100 pages, but it was a decent imagining of Emily Dickinson's life. Much better than a similar novel I have read. The author really did a great job, I felt, at finding Miss Dickinson's voice and keeping it consistent.
September 3, 2013
Told from the perspective of Emily Dickinson, this book covers her childhood through young adulthood. It seems very carefully researched and accurately portrays what life would have been like in that time period. I like how the author phrases things the way she thinks Emily would have spoken, giving an original twist to otherwise commonplace reminiscences.
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September 20, 2014I'm a huge lit person (kinda obvious considering the website this is on, right?) so the ides of a historical fic about young Emily Dickinson really appealed to me. The book was just... so... boring... I wish I would have read some GoodReads reviews before getting this. Seriously. You guys always know what your talking about. ;)
~ Astrid
~ Astrid
August 5, 2009
I enjoy novels based on real life stories. This is an easy read with no major drama, just a story about how Emily Dickenson's life was probably like. It was written in the 1st person and the narrative is similar to a classic like Pride and Prejudice which is why I probably enjoyed it so much.
February 25, 2010
I met the author of this book and wanted to read her perspective since she also acts in the play "The Belle of Amherst" which I am going to see in March. It was written for older kids and had very interesting aspects
September 7, 2010
This book was very difficult for me to read. Emily Dickinson had a unique way of writing and was a unique front runner in poetry in her time. I think the way this book was written was really hard for me to get past. But, I did like reading about her life.
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