This is the annotated edition including a rare and extensive biographical essay on the author, as well as an introductory to the book written by George Parsons Lathrop. The series of passages from the "American Note-Books" covers the space of eighteen years, almost to a day; the extracts running from June 15, 1835, to June 9, 1853; and in a detached way it represents the main part of Hawthorne's career throughout the period of his rise from obscurity to fame, purely as a growth of American soil and conditions, before he had ever set foot in Europe.

The American Notebooks follows chronological order, tracing Hawthorne's development over a period of eighteen years. The individual entries, however, are quite random in their makeup and contain adages, animal folklore, and biblical references that captivated Hawthorne. Observations of people whom he saw in the streets of nineteenth century Salem, Boston, and North Adams, Massachusetts, are mixed with flights of fancy that occurred to Hawthorne as he labored at his writing. Quotations from early eighteenth century newspapers and church books chronicle Hawthorne's lifelong interest in New England history. In this sense, the notebooks provide not only a glimpse of Hawthorne's close observation as a writer but also a picture of New England in the early-to-mid-nineteenth century. - enotes.com

This volume contains selections from Hawthorne's journals from 1835 to 1853, shortly before his departure for England, as well as some extracts from his letters within the same period. They contain many initial ideas which were to become stories and parts of romances, as well as meticulous observations of people and nature.

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1900 edition. Excerpt: ...few of them have become visible to the world. If ever I should have a biographer, he ought to make great men tion of this chamber in my memoirs, because so much of my lonely youth was wasted here, and here my mind and character were formed; and here I have been glad and hopeful, and here I have been despondent. And here I sat a long, long time, waiting patiently for the world to know me, and sometimes wondering why it did not know me sooner, or whether it would ever know me at all, --at least, till I were in my grave. And sometimes it seemed as if I were already in the grave, with only life enough to be chilled and benumbed. But oftener I was happy, --at least, as happy as I then knew how to be, or was aware of the possibility of being. By and by, the world found me out in my lonely chamber, and called me forth, --not, indeed, with a loud roar of acclamation, but rather with'a still, small voice, --.and forth I went, but found nothing in the world that I thought preferable to my old solitude till now.... And now I begin to understand why Iwas imprisoned so many years in this lonely' chamber, and why I could never break through the viewless bolts and bars; for if I had sooner made my escape into the world, I should have grown hard and rough, and been covered with earthly dust, and my heart might have become callous by rude encounters with the multitude.... But living in solitude till the fullness of time was come, I still kept the dew of my youth and the fresh ness of my heart.... I used to thinkI could imagine all passions, all feelings, and states of the heart and mind; but how little did I know ... Indeed, we are but shadows; we are not endowed with real life, and all that seems most real about us is but the thinnest substance o

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