Probably no writer spent more time in a room of her own than Emily Dickinson. In her 20s, she stopped socializing, and by middle age, Dickinson hardly ever left the family home in Amherst, Massachusetts. Even there, nobody knew that one of America’s greatest poets was at work upstairs. In one poem, Dickinson wonders if loneliness is “the maker of the soul.” Jennifer van Dyck reads.
The World is an independent newsroom. We’re not funded by billionaires; instead, we rely on readers and listeners like you. As a listener, you’re a crucial part of our team and our global community. Your support is vital to running our nonprofit newsroom, and we can’t do this work without you. Will you support The World with a gift today? Donations made between now and Dec. 31 will be matched 1:1. Thanks for investing in our work!