Dear Enemy — Background and Themes

A Voice of Resistance and Adaptation

Sallie's early letters are marked by a rapid, conversational style that mimics spoken thought. She uses dashes, exclamations, and rhetorical questions to convey her initial resistance. For example, she writes, 'Me—I, Sallie McBride, the head of an orphan asylum!' The repetition and italics emphasize her disbelief. As the story progresses, her tone shifts from flippant to more earnest, though she retains her wit. In later excerpts, she describes a placing-out agent and a scheme involving a baby named Caroline with the same energy but a more pragmatic focus. This change in pace—from personal protest to engaged problem-solving—mirrors her growing commitment to the children.

Epistolary Structure and Pacing

The novel is composed entirely of letters, each dated and addressed to a specific recipient. This format creates a sense of immediacy and intimacy, as readers experience events through Sallie's perspective in near-real time. The pacing varies: early letters are longer, filled with personal anecdotes and digressions, while later ones become more concise and action-oriented. For instance, a letter dated June 17 recounts the elaborate ruse to adopt out Caroline in a brisk, narrative style, with fewer asides. This shift reflects Sallie's increased efficiency and the mounting demands of her role. The epistolary form also allows for gaps in time, which the reader must infer, adding a layer of narrative tension.

Recurring Details and Thematic Threads

Throughout the excerpts, specific details recur that ground the story in its setting. Sallie references the 'Female Inebriate Asylum' in Worcester, Massachusetts, and later mentions a 'no-license portion of Connecticut,' indicating a concern with temperance and social reform. The orphanage itself is described through practical challenges: clothing, placement, and the behavior of children like Thomas Kehoe. These details are not merely decorative; they serve as touchstones for Sallie's evolving attitudes. Her initial joke about the 'Female Inebriate Asylum' gives way to serious discussions about adoption and the children's welfare, showing a deepening engagement with the social issues at hand.

Readers should attend to the way Sallie's language shifts across the letters—from playful to purposeful—as a barometer of her transformation. The novel's humor never entirely disappears, but it becomes a tool for coping with systemic challenges rather than a shield against involvement. The epistolary format rewards careful attention to dates and addressees, as these details signal changes in relationships and priorities.

Reading Sallie’s letters, I kept thinking how her sharp, fond exasperation for those unruly children feels like a tide pulling something unexpected to shore. It reminded me, oddly, of that old fairy tale’s quiet wonder—The corsair; or, the little fairy at the bottom of the sea — A Reader’s Guide—where the deepest longing often hides beneath a surface of noise and stubbornness. Both left me with a soft ache.