The Dusantes — Reading Notes

A Sequel’s Self-Awareness

The subtitle announces this as “A Sequel to ‘The Casting Away of Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine,’” and the narrator wastes no time referencing that earlier story. He summarizes the group’s backstory—the shipwreck, the island, his marriage to Ruth—in a single long sentence, as if to catch up readers quickly. Yet the sequel does not simply repeat the formula: the castaways are no longer marooned but are trying to return home. The excerpt shows them waiting a month on a larger island, frustrated by the lack of eastbound ships. This shift from survival to transit changes the stakes; the comedy now arises from the characters’ impatience and the absurdity of their situation. The narrator’s tone remains genial but observant, noting that Mr. Enderton’s naps are encouraged for the group’s peace. The sequel thus acknowledges its predecessor while moving into new territory.

The Ginger-Jar as Moral Object

A central object in the excerpt is the ginger-jar containing money left by the castaways as payment for hospitality. Mr. Dusante, the jar’s owner, is distressed by having accepted payment for what he considers a duty. He declares, “I could not endure to reflect that I had been paid actual money for the hospitality I would have been so glad to offer.” This sentiment drives the plot: he and his family travel to return the jar, “uncounted and untouched.” The jar becomes a symbol of conflicting ideas about obligation—the castaways felt they owed something; the host feels the debt is an insult. The narrator and his wife side with Mr. Dusante, but Mrs. Aleshine and Mrs. Lecks react with characteristic bluntness. Mrs. Aleshine’s exclamation—“Goodnessful, gracious me!”—and her horror at being imagined as a ghost show how the jar’s moral weight is undercut by the characters’ earthy humor.

Voices in Collision

The excerpt showcases distinct speech patterns that define the characters. Mrs. Aleshine uses colloquial, emphatic language: “The idea of bein’ a cold ghost, goin’ about in the dark, is worse than slidin’ down a snow mountain.” Mrs. Lecks rebukes her with a simple “Barb’ry!”—a terse reprimand that reveals their long acquaintance. Mr. Dusante, by contrast, speaks in formal, elaborate sentences: “Every sentiment of my being rebelled against such a thing. I was grieved. I was ashamed.” The narrator’s voice is more neutral, serving as a bridge between these styles. Miss Lucille, Mr. Dusante’s sister, offers a fanciful image of ghosts cleaning windows, which startles Mrs. Aleshine. These vocal contrasts create the novel’s comedy and tension, as characters from different backgrounds negotiate a shared predicament. The catalog subject “Friendship” is thus enacted through dialogue, not stated.

Readers coming to The Dusantes without having read the earlier novel will find enough context in the opening pages to follow the story, but the sequel assumes familiarity with the castaways’ history. The excerpts reveal a book more interested in the characters’ reactions to an unexpected moral dilemma than in travel or adventure. Pay attention to how Stockton uses objects—the ginger-jar, the barred entrance—to externalize internal conflicts about hospitality, debt, and social obligation. The humor is dry and character-driven, relying on the contrast between Mrs. Aleshine’s plain speech and Mr. Dusante’s formality.

Years among these shelves taught me how obligation can shape a character, just as it does in The Dusantes, where generosity returns like a persistent tide. I find the same quiet stubbornness in The Chalice Of Courage: A Romance of Colorado — Themes and Context, where the wilderness asks a similar reckoning. Both whisper that we are formed by what we owe.