The public reading room on the seventh floor is a pleasant space with large windows and a lofty view. Grob tries to preserve the person's own sense of the order of their papers, rearranging as necessary to arrive at a list useful to scholars. She's passionate, intellectual, and doesn't want to be coddled because of her disability. The earliest item is a sweet ode to the month of April dated from 1937 when Miller was thirteen. Some pages are covered with the spidery typeface of vintage typewriters.
Newer work is written in the crisp, dark typeface of modern machines.
Interestingly, there are a number of never-published short stories. Some multiple versions of poems show signs of work and rework. There are poem manuscripts upon which someone has jotted professional critique. Clearly, Miller did not magically generate her poetry whole and perfect. She toiled at it just like other writers.