Sure, it's dated (written in the 1930s) and Taggart fancies herself more of an auteur than a common chronicler which tends to grate on the nerves after a while. Her text sometimes runs off into flowery garbage that lends nothing the story she's telling. Taggart babbles at times. But she obviously adores Dickinson and her interest in the subject matters shines through even the melodramatic sap.

If you're a big Dickinson fan, then definitely try to read this book. You won't find out anything that has been covered in other biographies, but I think you'll enjoy Taggart's enthusiasm. I also enjoyed the non-linear manner she employed when she jumped back in forth in the time of Dickinson's life to tell her story.

My copy of this book is a worn hardcover edition. I doubt it ever made it to paperback.