“A Letter to Future Fellows” (A Quarry Farm Testimonial)

EDITOR’S NOTE: We occasionally feature testimonials from recent Quarry Farm Fellows and Residents, which combine conversational illustrations of their research and writing process with personal reflections on their experiences as Twain scholars, teachers, and fellows. Applications for Quarry Farm Fellowships are due each Winter. Find more information HERE .

I am currently working on a comparative study of Mark Twain’s and José Martí’s critiques of imperialism, focusing on how their rhetorical strategies and political goals reflect their respective positions in the Americas. As a Quarry Farm Fellow, my research will explore how Twain’s use of satire and moral critique to address U.S. imperialism contrasts with Martí’s revolutionary tone and direct focus on U.S. expansionism as a threat to Latin America’s sovereignty and cultural identity. By examining rare materials in the Quarry Farm archives, I hope to deepen my analysis of the ethical and rhetorical dimensions of anti-imperialist thought, and to ultimately contribute to a broader transnational discourse on US imperialism. My goal is to expand the intersections between Twain Studies and Latin American intellectual publications.

Dear Future Fellow,

Before arriving for my two-week stay at Quarry Farm in mid-March, when winter and spring are locked in a transitional struggle of endings and new beginnings, I wondered how I would cope with the celebrated quietness of the historic house. I have always lived in a bustling city or college town, and for the past 8 years have also lived in a multigenerational household. My life has always been full of sound, loud, energetic, and lively. I did not know what to expect of my quiet time at Quarry Farm.

So, it was a great joy to discover that Quarry Farm is not really a quiet place. At least, not in the way one imagines it. It holds the echos of passionate past lives and that excitement is layered in the material makeup of the house as well as in the work I was doing. Take the kitchen, for example. At breakfast, my partner and I would imagine what mornings with Twain were like, what he might have said to his wife, and what kinds of stories he might have told Mary Ann. I, in particular, thought of Mary Ann often and what she might have been like. Mostly, I imagined her laugh. I decided it was a deep and boisterous laugh. The kind of laugh you just know is contagious. I swear I could hear it reverberating across the mudroom, around corners. It felt real in many ways even though I was only imagining it.

Quarry Farm Kitchen with a custom made oven, embossed with “Our Favorite”

Then there were the rooms and the pictures that placed Mark Twain in the very spaces I inhabited. Here, I did not have to imagine what it must have been like to sit in the library or the porch and to breathe in the fresh air. I was there, holding on to an experience that was being shaped by intimate moments of the past. And it was not just of a past Mark Twain lived, but what other Quarry Farm Fellows before me have lived. As literary thinkers and scholars passing through, we have engaged Twain’s work, each in some way summoning him again through our own imaginings. The house does not only hold memories, but a creative and historical continuity of work. In fact, if you google Quarry Farm, you’ll come across Twain’s famous description of it as “the quietest of all quiet places.” But, I want you to remember the last four words in the quote: (we) “live in the sun,” and then I want you to read more closely about the work done at Quarry Farm during his summers there. You will realize that quiet was never an absence of sound. It was a lived-in quiet: a burgeoning dairy farm; animals of all sorts in motion: donkeys, cats, horses; children running across the grounds, creating fictional lands, or writing biographies; friends gathered in the evening to share stories. The space has always been loud with the sounds of work.

On the roof: Jean Clemens.
Dogs from left to right: Osmon and Bruce.
People from left to right: Bim Pond and Susan Crane.  1895.

I know firsthand that what remains today is also not a “quiet” space. The sounds of the past became memory, and memory became echoes we share. So, remember, future fellow, you are joining an ongoing resonance of the hundreds of lives that have inhabited this space, both human and otherwise. Enjoy the solitude, but fill the house with your own unique and meaningful sounds.

Before I close, I’d just like to say that I am very grateful to Joe and the Center for Mark Twain Studies for having allowed me to add a most special echo to this historic place: for two weeks, my baby Marcus’ laughter and squeals filled the house, joining the joyous laughter of Susy, Clara, Jean, and all the children that have filled it before.

Yours Truly, Nancy Quintanilla

Photo Courtesy of Nancy Quintanilla (March 2026)