My Name Is Lucy Barton: A Novel
Lucy Barton is recovering slowly from what should have been a simple operation. Her mother, to whom she hasn’t spoken for many years, comes to see her. Gentle gossip about people from Lucy’s childhood in Amgash, Illinois, seems to reconnect them, but just below the surface lie the tension and longing that have informed every aspect of Lucy’s life: her escape from her troubled family, her desire to become a writer, her marriage, her love for her two daughters. Knitting this powerful narrative together is the brilliant storytelling voice of Lucy herself: keenly observant, deeply human, and truly unforgettable.
BUY THE BOOK
Community Reviews
When Lucy Barton, a young mother of two, is hospitalized for several weeks, she has an unexpected visitor: her mother.
"About three weeks after I was admitted, I turned my eyes from the window late one afternoon and found my mother sitting in a chair at the foot of my bed. "Mom?" I said.
"Hi, Lucy," she said. Her voice sounded shy but urgent. She leaned forward and squeezed my foot through the sheet. "Hi, Wizzle," she said. I had not seen my mother for years, and I kept staring at her; I could not figure out why she looked so different."
In this compact novel, author Elizabeth Strout unwraps the complicated layers of communication and missed opportunities for bonding between estranged mother and daughter. Lucy's childhood was materially and emotionally poor and confining, with unspoken traumatic memories that are never disclosed in the book. Lucy's mother is tightly wound, not affectionate or loving, remaining distant even while visiting Lucy in the hospital.
Lucy yearns to feel closeness to her mother, and encourages her mother to continue telling gossipy tales about many of the people in their past, including those who came to a bad end, a condition that Lucy's mother often finds a fitting punishment for misdeeds. Given Lucy's unhappiness in her own marriage and frustrated efforts to feel close to her mother, she takes solace in the mentorship of an older writer who encourages Lucy's talent, the kindness of her physician, who visits daily yet does not charge for most of his visits, and her fierce love for her own two young daughters.
Unfortunately, it doesn't hang together in a cohesive manner. Individual sections of the story, all told by Lucy, are affecting, but it is too lacking in connective tissue to be memorable.
"About three weeks after I was admitted, I turned my eyes from the window late one afternoon and found my mother sitting in a chair at the foot of my bed. "Mom?" I said.
"Hi, Lucy," she said. Her voice sounded shy but urgent. She leaned forward and squeezed my foot through the sheet. "Hi, Wizzle," she said. I had not seen my mother for years, and I kept staring at her; I could not figure out why she looked so different."
In this compact novel, author Elizabeth Strout unwraps the complicated layers of communication and missed opportunities for bonding between estranged mother and daughter. Lucy's childhood was materially and emotionally poor and confining, with unspoken traumatic memories that are never disclosed in the book. Lucy's mother is tightly wound, not affectionate or loving, remaining distant even while visiting Lucy in the hospital.
Lucy yearns to feel closeness to her mother, and encourages her mother to continue telling gossipy tales about many of the people in their past, including those who came to a bad end, a condition that Lucy's mother often finds a fitting punishment for misdeeds. Given Lucy's unhappiness in her own marriage and frustrated efforts to feel close to her mother, she takes solace in the mentorship of an older writer who encourages Lucy's talent, the kindness of her physician, who visits daily yet does not charge for most of his visits, and her fierce love for her own two young daughters.
Unfortunately, it doesn't hang together in a cohesive manner. Individual sections of the story, all told by Lucy, are affecting, but it is too lacking in connective tissue to be memorable.
This book is described as a story of mothers and daughters, but I find it more comprised of learning to be true to oneself. Lucy narrates the story which loosely describes her interactions with her mother, while Lucy is in the hospital. This thread is flecked with anecdotes and revelations to the end. Do we really each have only one story?
I do love Strout’s writing. Contemplative and attentive to nuance.
I do love Strout’s writing. Contemplative and attentive to nuance.
See why thousands of readers are using Bookclubs to stay connected.