I was excited to find the full text of The Bell in the Fog by Gertrude Atherton here:This story has haunted me for many years, with its not-quite-hidden subtext of idealization (and romanticization) of the girl and devaluation of the woman she will become. So much so the male protagonis hints that it would have been better for the girlchildren of his obsession not to have grown up.
Which led me to wonder, all those years ago - being on the edge of womanhood myself at the time - is it that girls grow up or does our childhood die instead? Does a certain value we seem to possess in the eyes of others die as well, or are they simply replaced by other things? What about the private knowledge at times that we are both? It's not surprising to me that more and more young women cling to their childhood, not yet wanting to become - or maybe it's to be seen as - that other. It's something nebulous that's difficult to speak of outright, but many female artists and writers have covered the territory. The Bell in the Fog captures that nebulous quality very well.
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