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3.5 stars. If nothing else, read the first Reverie - it is excellent, and taken as a stand alone piece arguably deserves 5 stars, showing why "Ik Marvel" was once one of the foremost American writers.

It's a shame this part of the book hasn't made it into the "canon" of American short fiction alongside angsty and ephemeral but "culturally significant" pieces like Gilman's "Yellow Wallpaper."

I was curious about Mitchell: he is entirely forgotten now, but was an American man of letters in the grand old tradition of Washington Irving and William Dean Howells; he wrote on subjects from husbandry to history to landscaping to sentimental fiction, and was once a household name (this was Dickinson's favorite book). My hopes were high. The first Reverie - a flash of genius - reminded me of Irving particularly, with its wit, easy mastery of the language, effortless style and self-conscious lightness of heart. I was intrigued and read on. The next two reveries were also enjoyable, though the genius by then was admittedly burning lower, like the Bachelor's fire. Once the reveries turned to reminiscences the sentimentality came through in a way 21st century readers like myself will find hard to relate to. Nevertheless I suspect this reflects our cynicism and lack of moral sentiment as much as it does the author's mawkishness. If one has read this far, it is vital to press on to the end: though the second half of the book is tedious and belabored more often than not (though not always), a surprise ending does much to redeem it and reveals that Mitchell was "laying it on thick" partly by design. Overall a good read with parts that endure and resonate; not merely valuable as a window into another world, but (as the author intended) as a window into the human heart.