Green Dolphin Street by Elizabeth Goudge

Green DolphinStreet is the story of two sisters who live in the Channel Islands in the mid-1800s. Marguerite and Marianne couldn’t be more different. Marguerite (like her name "daisy") is cheerful and carefree, ready to drink in whatever joys life has to offer. Marianne is less beautiful and much less easily pleased. But she has a thirst for knowledge and for experiences that make her sturdier and more dependable in times of trouble.

Her parents were much exercised over this brain of Marianne’s and were doing their best to repress it within ladylike proportions. But Marrianne wouldn’t be interested in sensible things like crewel work and water-color painting and duet playing on the pianoforte with her little sister Marguerite, even though she did all these things superlatively well. That was the trouble with Marianne, she did them too well, and her restless intellect reached out beyond them to things like mathematics and the politics of the Island parliament, farming, fishing, and sailing, knowledge that was neither attractive nor necessary in a woman and would add nothing whatever to her chances of attracting a suitable husband…

Marianne and Marguerite fall in love with the same young man, William Ozanne. I can’t tell you which one he chooses, but I can say that this novel is no fluffy romance. Instead it’s about the high cost of loving. The original title was “Green Dolphin Country,” which was more appropriate because each character in the book is yearning to find their own “country”, the place where they feel most at home. Some look for this in the love of another person. Others seek it in adventurous places. But all of them learn that this longed-for fulfillment comes at a very high price – death to self. Elizabeth Goudge is a master at this type of story. She writes of flawed people who through their disappointments learn to love in richer ways. Self-giving love is the key to finding their “country,” their native soil.

Goudge is not only a master of writing deeply, she also writes beautifully. Here is a description of the Mother Abess’ room in a convent: In spite of its austerity the room was not cold. It was very beautiful in its simplicity, and Marguerite within the flushed white walls felt as though she were inside a mother-of-pearl shell.

And this description of a loving kiss: It neither promised nor gave security, it was rather a dedication of themselves in comradeship to the danger and pain of living.

I started this book carefully noting passages that I wanted to highlight here on my blog, but ditched that as soon as I became engrossed in the story. When I came down to earth near the end of the book, I finally stopped to underline many beautiful paragraphs. By that time, I didn’t care if I ever blogged about this book or not. I was just glad to have experienced it. My copy is almost 500 pages long so it’s not an easy read, but if you like a well-told story, you’ll be glad to make the effort.

 Blessings,