Melinda Truelsen is a graduate student in literature and a Mustang Daily book columnist. Her column, “Reading Between the Lines” will appear on Wednesdays.
Melinda Truelsen is a graduate student in literature and a Mustang Daily book columnist. Her column, “Reading Between the Lines” will appear on Wednesdays.

“Words went round, had odd ways of tacking off, billowing out, full sail. If she could have gone to Point Pleasant, listened to the sea, everything would come right.”


Fall is my favorite time of year. Friends, family, great food and, if you’re lucky, a warm fire and a good book to cuddle up with on those foggy, dreary days. On days like these, I like to go back to some of my favorites, classics I will never get tired of reading. This year the book that has taken up residence on my oversized armchair by the window is H.D.’s “HERmione. Written in 1927 but not published until 1981, this is the first of three semi-autobiographical novels by imagist poet Hilda Doolittle (who normally wrote, and is most commonly known as, H.D.). Though she is not a very widely known author, her work is nonetheless significant.


As one of the few female authors of the modernist era, H.D.’s work is significantly important in creating an identity for women both as authors and characters. “HERmione” is not only a significant work in literature, but it is also beautifully written and idealistic.


Since this is a semi-autobiography, the protagonist is based on the author. The protagonist’s name in the novel is Hermione Gart, though, as the title suggests, she is mostly referred to by her nickname, Her. Was it an accident that H.D., an early feminist writer, gave her protagonist a nickname that defined her merely as a pronoun rather than as an independent subject? Probably not.


What is more important though than simply her nickname, is how Hermione Gart is able to move past her status as a secondary subject and take full agency over her own life. Though not an easy transition, it is a fascinating one that consumes your attention for the entirety of the novel.


Her Gart is a young girl in her early 20s who is at her family home in Pennsylvania shortly after failing out of Bryn Mawr (a women’s college on the East Coast).

At school, she was learning math in an attempt to please her family and prove herself somehow. But after failing to understand a certain concept, she seemingly gives up.


Why would she just give up and go home? The answer isn’t easy; in fact, the struggle to answer this question drives the development of this novel. While searching for self-discovery and self-definition, Hermione Gart reflects on her relationships with her friends and family. She also develops romantic relationships in the course of the novel — some which might surprise a more conservative reader. One of her relationships is with George Lowndes, who is assumed to be representative of H.D.’s real relationship with poet Ezra Pound.


Though this isn’t a heavily plot-driven novel, what really drives it are the ideas you find hidden within H.D.’s beautiful use of language. Her attention to detail and the way that she is able to seamlessly create all the supporting details for this life-changing transition is impeccable. Written in the stream of consciousness style, this novel tends to be kind of confusing at times, but the moments of confusion are worth it in the end.


These confusing moments are actually what keep bringing me back to this novel; every time I read it I find something new, a new metaphor that I hadn’t noticed or a different turn of phrase that stays with me. H.D. is remarkably successful in creating an extraordinary story out of a seemingly normal life, and giving agency and voice to generations of female writers all while setting a high standard for writers to follow.


“I have tasted words, I have seen them…Words may be my heritage and with words I will prove [myself].

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