In Slowly, By Thy Hand Unfurled, a nineteenth century nameless and uneducated housewife records a remarkable diary of her dark, disintegrating journey. Trying to make sense of herself and to form a judgment of her life, she struggles in confusion to pierce the narrow limits of her understanding--of her time and place, of the realities of her nature. Romulus Linney has written an exquisite exercise in self-destruction, but it's final strength rests in its naked yet compassionate treatment of human guilt and suffering. The diarist's language is blunt and deformed, but it also reaches toward a lyricism as she sees the discrepancies between what she professes and what she practices--as a mother, a wife, and individual.