[Abra] is a didactic novel, and deals more successfully with ideas than people. Even the name Abra is significant, suggesting as it does Abracadabra, an ancient cabbalistic configuration of letters that was supposed to cure fevers. (p. 102)

[Abra inherits] enough money to buy a remote country property where she can hole up with garden, books, and birds. In this way she eliminates all social contact, and with it, all conflict, pain, and responsibility.

Who doesn't recognize this fantasy? Every child dreams of such utopian omnipotence. He will run away to the forest…. And no messy human relationship will ever touch, dominate, disappoint, or reject him again. Even better than Robinson Crusoe. He had a footprint to contend with.

Abra finds no footprints in her retreat. Her withdrawal is complete and represents the furthest extreme of fearfulness, which, Barfoot implies—unconsciously I think—is the inevitable result of the...