![]() ![]() If anything of Warner’s is still read, it’s the lyrical essays of “My Summer in a Garden” with its quotable (and over-quoted) lines (“politics makes strange bed-fellows”). Some contemporaries compared him with essayist Charles Lamb, the quieter member of the circle of Wordsworth and Coleridge. ![]() His personality and writing style radiated a genteel whimsicality that is no longer in favor and has not survived alongside the tougher, funnier stuff of Mark Twain’s. If anything, they considered Stowe an interesting figure of the past but Warner a modern man. National magazine writers of the 1870s assigned to visit Hartford described the homes and careers of all three. When he lived on Hawthorn Street in Hartford, and later on Forest Street in the heart of Nook Farm, he was considered on a par with his great neighbors, Mark Twain and Harriet Beecher Stowe. The shelf of Charles Dudley Warner’s books stands at 15 volumes, but like many works by the triple-named writers of the Victorian era, they are largely unread today. ![]()
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