I don’t know about you, but I love reading old books. There’s something about the writing from the 1940s and 1950s that is so impeccable and sophisticated. Not to mention the wonderful smell of a well-maintained old book. When my copy of The Marmot Drive arrived by mail, the first thing I did was bury my nose in the pages. I wasn’t disappointed; the fragrance was clean and dry and comforting. Like stepping into the entryway of my grandmother’s house.

Even better, The Marmot Drive turned out to be a surprising and brilliantly written novel. The story is told from the perspective of Hester, a twenty-something city girl who has travelled to the village of Tunxis, Connecticut with her boyfriend, Eben, to meet his family. Unbeknownst to them, Eben’s father, a town official, has organized a massive operation to rid the town of groundhogs, scheduled for that weekend. It’s all hands on deck, including Hester, and she sees firsthand how group mentality, festering resentments, and misinformation can derail even the best-laid plans.
I was impressed by John Hersey’s ability to effectively portray a young woman’s POV. I didn’t expect that from a middle-aged male novelist in 1953. I also didn’t expect the ending, which has elements of Shirley Jackson’s short story, The Lottery, with undertones of Salem witch trials.
The writing is elegant and restrained; the 1950s vocabulary is fascinating. I always love learning new words; my favorite one from this book is “hobbledyhoy,” which means adolescent awkwardness.
I loved this book. I’m so glad I bought it. I will keep it forever.

The Marmot Drive by John Hersey | Goodreads