0,49 €
Niedrigster Preis in 30 Tagen: 1,99 €
Niedrigster Preis in 30 Tagen: 1,99 €
Mehr erfahren.
- Herausgeber: Booksell-Verlag
- Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
- Sprache: Englisch
A Sappho of Green Springs is a finely crafted novella by Bret Harte that captures the essence of life in the American West during the late 19th century. Written with Harte's characteristic humor and vivid prose, the narrative centers around the enigmatic figure of a woman, often reflecting on themes of longing, identity, and the constraints of societal norms. The story unfolds in a rural setting where the lush landscape breathes life into the characters' emotions, revealing the intricate interplay between nature and human experience. Harte's engaging dialogue and regional dialect further enhance the authenticity of his characters and their experiences, establishing a significant literary context that showcases the intersection of realism and romanticism prevalent in his work. Bret Harte was a pivotal figure in Western literature, largely influenced by his own experiences in California during the Gold Rush era. His exposure to diverse cultures and social dynamics has shaped his narratives that frequently highlight the complexities of human relationships. Harte wrote A Sappho of Green Springs at a time when he was exploring the deeper existential questions surrounding identity and societal expectations, drawing inspiration from the lives of those he encountered. This novella is highly recommended for readers seeking a nuanced exploration of the Western genre that transcends mere adventure. Harte's insightful portrayal of his characters, combined with his lyrical style, invites readers to reflect on their own societal roles and personal desires. A Sappho of Green Springs is a must-read for anyone interested in American literature and the rich tapestry of human emotions woven through its narrative. In this enriched edition, we have carefully created added value for your reading experience: - A succinct Introduction situates the work's timeless appeal and themes. - The Synopsis outlines the central plot, highlighting key developments without spoiling critical twists. - A detailed Historical Context immerses you in the era's events and influences that shaped the writing. - A thorough Analysis dissects symbols, motifs, and character arcs to unearth underlying meanings. - Reflection questions prompt you to engage personally with the work's messages, connecting them to modern life. - Hand‐picked Memorable Quotes shine a spotlight on moments of literary brilliance. - Interactive footnotes clarify unusual references, historical allusions, and archaic phrases for an effortless, more informed read.
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019
Ähnliche
A Sappho of Green Springs
Table of Contents
Introduction
In a frontier community eager for culture yet governed by rough circumstance, a woman’s emerging reputation as a poet becomes the spark that illuminates questions of identity, belonging, and the uneasy bargain between authenticity and public performance.
A Sappho of Green Springs is a work of regional fiction by Bret Harte, the American writer closely associated with local color narratives of the Western frontier. First published in the late nineteenth century, it reflects the period’s fascination with outpost societies and their improvised institutions of taste and judgment. Set in and around a settlement called Green Springs, the story examines how a community on the edge of established culture responds to the promise of artistic refinement. It has appeared in book form together with other Harte stories, typical of the era’s publishing and collecting practices.
Without disclosing later turns, the premise is straightforward and suggestive: a woman in Green Springs acquires the nickname “Sappho,” and her perceived literary gifts become a matter of local pride, curiosity, and contention. Harte’s narrator moves with brisk economy, alternating wry observation with moments of genuine tenderness. The voice balances satire and sympathy, allowing readers to sense both the aspiration and the anxiety that accompany cultural ambition in a raw setting. The mood is lively yet reflective, offering humor tinged with pathos as the town’s judgments gather around a figure who becomes emblematic of their hopes.
Thematically, the book probes the making of reputation—how art, rumor, and social need conspire to create a public image. It considers gendered expectations: who gets to make claims to artistry, and on what terms. It also explores the frontier’s hunger for legitimacy, showing how communities reach for refinement even as they distrust it. Harte’s interest in the theatre of manners—small courtesies, accidental slights, performative generosity—underscores the fragile economies of respect that operate in places where status is provisional and memory short. The result is a study of authenticity strained by admiration, envy, and the pragmatic demands of survival.
Readers encounter Harte’s hallmark local color: precise attention to setting, social rhythm, and the telling detail that reveals a camp’s inner order. Dialogue carries a distinct regional cadence without sacrificing clarity, and descriptions of ordinary spaces—boarding rooms, public thoroughfares, improvised parlors—become stages where aspiration meets contingency. The narrative often pivots on misread signals, overheard remarks, and the quiet force of printed opinion, showing how communities narrate themselves into cohesion or conflict. Irony does not flatten the characters; instead, it creates a respectful distance that invites readers to weigh motives, self-deceptions, and the gentle courage of everyday compromise.
For today’s readers, the book’s questions feel timely: What happens when a private impulse toward creation becomes a public claim? How do admiration and opportunism mingle in a culture of rapid recognition? The dynamics of visibility—endorsement, gatekeeping, and the swift circulation of judgments—echo modern debates about credibility, authorship, and audience. The text also prompts reflection on regional identity, asking what it means to cultivate taste far from the centers of cultural power. Its emotional appeal lies in observing people trying to do right by one another while navigating the pressures of image, scarcity, and the longing to matter.
Approached as a focused, character-centered tale, A Sappho of Green Springs offers the pleasures of deft scene-making, moral nuance, and a gently satirical eye that never loses sight of human dignity. It will interest readers drawn to Western settings, literary culture in miniature, and the social choreography that turns talent—real or imagined—into communal narrative. Attentive reading rewards the ear for tone and the eye for implication, as small choices accumulate into meaning. In its concise compass, the story extends an invitation to consider how art reshapes a place, and how a place, in turn, reshapes art.
Synopsis
A Sappho of Green Springs opens in a remote California mining settlement where rough labor and quick fortunes shape daily life. Into this practical world comes an unexpected cultural stir: a series of lyrical poems signed by Sappho appears in the local newspaper. The verses, tender and refined, contrast with the frontier’s brusque manners, and soon the camp is captivated by the mystery of their author. The notion that a gifted poetess lives among them excites curiosity and protective admiration. Speculation begins quietly, then spreads through boardinghouses, stores, and claims, tying the community together in shared wonder at an unseen, idealized neighbor.
The small-town editor, delighted by the sudden attention, publishes each new poem with care while refusing to disclose the writer’s identity. Miners and shopkeepers trade theories about who Sappho might be, reading hints into ordinary gestures and chance remarks. The poems’ tone of longing and restraint suggests culture beyond the settlement, feeding a chivalrous impulse to revere without intruding. Women read them for consolation; men defend the unknown author from imagined slights. Harte traces how imprecision and rumor, amplified by the hunger for beauty in a hard place, build a legend that seems more real, and more necessary, than verifiable facts.
News of the Green Springs poet reaches the larger world, and a sophisticated visitor with literary connections arrives to investigate. He approaches the editor and leading townspeople, weighing commercial opportunity against curiosity. His urban skepticism challenges the camp’s unspoken pact of respect, introducing questions about authenticity, originality, and profit. Offers are floated—publication beyond the county, possible patronage, perhaps a tour—each carrying the risk of exposure. The visitor’s presence subtly divides the settlement between those who seek recognition for their celebrated neighbor and those who fear that public scrutiny will cheapen a private talent and disturb the fragile local harmony.
Attention naturally falls upon several young women whose manners or education might align with Sappho’s voice. A thoughtful schoolteacher, a reserved clerk, and a spirited boarder become objects of discreet watching and awkward compliments. The men of Green Springs, moved by gallantry as much as curiosity, complicate the atmosphere with clumsy protectiveness and tentative courtship. Everyday interactions—borrowed books, a hymn at church, a letter mailed—acquire disproportionate meaning. While no firm evidence emerges, social tensions rise. The possibility that the poet may be ordinary rather than remarkable troubles some, even as others find dignity in the idea of genius hidden in plain sight.
As speculation grows, rival newspapers and correspondents begin to press for revelation. The local editor faces a dilemma: safeguard the trust that allows Sappho to write or capitalize on the wave of publicity that could secure the paper’s future. Anonymous letters, parodies, and well-meaning tributes blur sincere admiration with opportunism. The visiting man of letters proposes to act as intermediary, promising fair terms and discreet handling, yet his detachment unsettles those who feel the poet belongs first to Green Springs. The editor’s uneasy choices bring private confidences to the brink of public controversy, forcing questions about consent and stewardship.
A community gathering becomes a turning point when a new poem, circulated aloud, seems to echo sources familiar to the visitor. Whispered doubts about plagiarism and borrowed sentiment disturb the camp’s ideal. The suggestion does not immediately discredit Sappho; rather, it raises competing claims about influence, education, and the frontier’s relationship to established culture. Emotions flare as reputations appear vulnerable. The threat of formal challenge—legal, editorial, or social—looms, and the editor’s posture of protection becomes harder to maintain. Personal stakes intensify for several suspected women, who must balance self-respect, livelihood, and safety against the allure and danger of recognition.
In private conversations, fragments of a personal history begin to surface, clarifying why the poems speak with restraint and borrowed echoes. Circumstances of family duty, constrained opportunity, and secondhand learning help explain both the voice and the secrecy. The narrative explores how aspiration forms amid scarcity, how influence can blend with sincerity, and how the camp’s idealization, though imperfect, springs from generosity. Those closest to the truth weigh competing obligations: to honesty, to the community’s morale, and to the writer’s dignity. The visiting investigator confronts limits to exposure, recognizing that a full revelation might satisfy curiosity while causing needless harm.
The crisis eases not through triumph or scandal, but through deliberate restraint. Key figures choose discretion, redirecting attention away from the poet’s identity and toward the ordinary decency of life at Green Springs. Some relationships quietly realign, touched by a clearer understanding of motives and needs. The visitor revises his intentions, acknowledging values that resist the marketplace. The editor steadies the paper, accepting modesty over notoriety. The poems cease to be a sensation and become part of local memory, carrying meaning for those who listened closely. Harte resolves the tension by affirming community honor without insisting on a definitive unmasking.
By following the rise and waning of the Sappho legend, the book examines idealization as a social force on the frontier. It suggests that communities under strain shape sustaining myths, and that art—original or derivative—can dignify ordinary lives when treated with care. The narrative balances humor and sympathy, noting vanity and opportunism while emphasizing kindness. Without relying on melodrama, it highlights turning points where disclosure would destroy what admiration has created. The result conveys a restrained message: that respect, privacy, and a measure of imagination can matter more than acclaim, leaving Green Springs modestly altered by its brush with poetry.
Historical Context
A Sappho of Green Springs portrays a Sierra Nevada foothill settlement in the decades after the initial California Gold Rush, roughly the 1860s–1870s. Green Springs, like many El Dorado and Calaveras county towns near Coloma and Placerville, sits on stage and freight routes linking interior diggings to Sacramento and San Francisco. Wooden boardinghouses, stamp mills, and assay offices stand beside chaparral and tailings piles, while the telegraph and regular mail knit a once-isolated camp to the wider nation. Harte’s setting captures a society moving from transient mining to semi-settled respectability, where commerce, newspapers, and civic ritual begin to rival the sluice box, yet frontier habits and hierarchies persist.
The California Gold Rush began with James W. Marshall’s discovery at Sutter’s Mill near Coloma on 24 January 1848, soon followed by the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo in February 1848, which transferred California to the United States. Between 1848 and 1855, roughly 300,000 people arrived, transforming San Francisco from about 1,000 residents to more than 25,000 by 1850, and spawning hundreds of camps across the Sierra foothills. El Dorado County became a hub of placer mining and rough democracy. Green Springs is a child of this upheaval; the story’s community bears the Rush’s imprint in its fluid class lines, entrepreneurial improvisation, and the precarious respectability that frames the young woman nicknamed Sappho.
After the easy gravels waned, California mining shifted to capital-intensive quartz and hydraulic methods. Companies built stamp mills and washed entire hillsides into sluices, sending debris into the Yuba and Feather rivers. In 1884, Judge Lorenzo Sawyer’s landmark injunction in Woodruff v. North Bloomfield Gravel Mining Co. curtailed hydraulic mining to protect downstream farmlands near Marysville. Consolidation reduced opportunities for lone prospectors and reoriented towns toward services, landholding, and retail. Harte’s Green Springs reflects this transition: the economy is as much boardinghouses, teamsters, and newspapers as it is claims, and the figure of a local poetess emerges as cultural aspiration fills the vacuum left by declining independent mining.
Revolutions in transport and communication bound the foothills to national circuits. The Pony Express ran from April 1860 to October 1861, and the transcontinental telegraph was completed on 24 October 1861. The Central Pacific Railroad pushed east from Sacramento through the Sierra with thousands of Chinese laborers, meeting the Union Pacific at Promontory Summit, Utah Territory, on 10 May 1869, when Leland Stanford drove the ceremonial golden spike. Wells Fargo, founded in 1852, carried express, money, and manuscripts along stage and rail. In Harte’s tale, letters, newspapers, and printed verses shuttle between Green Springs and San Francisco, dramatizing how print networks—and gossip—could create or destroy reputations across distances.
California’s exuberant press culture framed the literary ambitions central to the plot. The Daily Alta California (founded 1849) and the Sacramento Daily Union (1851) publicized mining news and verse, while the Overland Monthly, launched in July 1868 in San Francisco, attempted a distinctly Western literature. Bret Harte edited the Overland Monthly from 1868 to 1870 and understood the slush pile, pseudonyms, and the making of local celebrity. Reading rooms and lyceums dotted mining towns, and itinerant lecturers drew crowds. The book leverages this milieu: an anonymous woman’s poems circulate to editors and readers, and the mechanisms of provincial publicity—commendation, satire, and rumor—become plot engines that expose the social risks of authorship.
The frontier’s gender regime supplies another historical through-line. California’s 1849 constitutional convention adopted community property, recognizing married women’s separate property, and the legislature elaborated those protections in the 1850s. Women were scarce in mining districts and commonly worked as boardinghouse keepers, teachers, or proprietors, yet statewide suffrage would not arrive until 1911, decades after Seneca Falls (1848) inaugurated national agitation. Reformers such as Laura de Force Gordon advocated rights in the 1870s. The narrative probes how a young woman’s livelihood and reputation could be policed by male opinion, church committees, and the press, and how cultural labor—poetry—was judged against restrictive expectations of propriety.
Immigration, law, and periodic crises also shaped the Sierra world mirrored by the story. California imposed Foreign Miners’ Taxes in 1850 and 1852 that targeted noncitizen, especially Chinese and Latin American, miners; federal policy culminated in the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882. Vigilance Committees in San Francisco in 1851 and 1856 dramatized resort to extra-legal order, while the General Mining Law of 10 May 1872 formalized claim-making on the public domain. The Panic of 1873 disrupted credit and mining investment. Though not central to the plot, such forces inform Green Springs’s wary attitudes toward outsiders, its reliance on custom, and its oscillation between boom, bust, and moralizing reform.
Read as social critique, the book interrogates how a community that celebrates enterprise also polices identity and voice. By dramatizing the elevation and exposure of a provincial poet through newspapers and civic opinion, it indicts the commodification of reputation and the gendered double standard that confines women to respectability while consuming their art. The portrayals of petty officeholders, editors, and self-appointed moral guardians reflect the West’s uneasy passage from camp to town, with status anxieties intensified by economic volatility. In giving a name like Sappho to a beleaguered local woman, Harte exposes both aspiration and hypocrisy in the emergent civil order of post-Gold Rush California.
