Thyra Samter Winslow, “The First Reader, ” New York World-Telegram, 29 August 1935, p. 19

Vein of Iron, by Ellen Glasgow, is published today. That it will go immediately into the best-seller lists is inevitable. And this popularity reflects credit not on Miss Glasgow as much as it does on the reading public.

When a book as fine and as true and as thoughtful as Vein of Iron is given general acclaim—and I'd like to bet that it will be—it seems to me that literature is pretty safe here in America. I'm a little tired of authors “too good to be popular” and the idea that only shallow and tawdry books sell.

Vein of Iron is rich in emotion and understanding, with a profound feeling for the fullness of life in the past and the present. And those who love Ellen Glasgow need not be told that her prose is beautiful—I've never known it as lovely as in Vein of Iron.

The story is laid in the village of Ironside, in Shut In Valley, Virginia, and in the city of Queenborough. The most delightful as well as the most heartrending scenes are laid in Ironside. In this village the Fincastles have lived since they took the land from the Indians. They were simple people and just, with duty and religion more important than happiness, but with happiness found in small things. They were poor—had always been poor—but they still lived in “the manse,” and there was enough to eat.