I started skimming through the last 40 pages or so. This novel started off strong, and quaint, and interesting. However, it reads sloppy in the sense that the structure is repetitive---which is understandable because one cannot introduce every character in the first few arcs because most of them are at most passing acquaintances. In that way, the structure molds true to life, of people passing through, but in the confines of a novel, it can become unbearable to read. Harriet Hatfield often repeats her goals, her plights, what a joy her bookstore brings her, which is fine, and understandable. But frustrating. This novel touches upon intersectionality of class, race, and sexuality, but in an elementary manner, which is a sign of the times, I'm sure. And with Harriet's hesitation to identify with the label of lesbian, it's a fascinating view to read, as it contrasts heavily with the current times. I can't wait to read the biography of May Sarton. Wikipedia hinted at juicy bits.