The Marriage Portrait: Reese's Book Club: A novel
The acclaimed author of Hamnet—a New York Times bestseller and winner of the National Book Critics Circle Award—now turns her perceptive eye to the ruling families of Renaissance Italy, for whom marriage meant political power, while a woman’s worth was measured by her ability to perpetuate a dynasty.
Inspired by a daughter of the House of Medici—Lucrezia di Cosimo de’ Medici d’Este, who wed Alfonso II at the age of thirteen and died just three years later—The Marriage Portrait captures an opulent yet dangerous world. In the novel, Lucrezia is a gifted artist who is not afraid to speak her mind. But when her older sister dies on the eve of marrying the ruler of Ferrara, Modena, and Reggio, her father ensures that Lucrezia will become the bride instead. Forced to join an unfamiliar, often unwelcoming court after the pageantry of a high-stakes wedding, Lucrezia soon begins to fear her seemingly charming new husband. Why do his formidable sisters seem to tremble before him? And what will become of her if she does not produce an heir?
Full of the tender beauty with which O’Farrell illuminated the Shakespearean canvas in Hamnet, this is an extraordinary portrait of resilience in the face of confinement and devastating consequences. The questions that follow are designed to enrich your book club’s discussion of The Marriage Portrait. We hope this guide will enhance your experience of an endlessly fascinating chapter in Renaissance history.
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Community Reviews
1/5
Lucrezia suddenly comes to a startling realization: her husband, Alfonso, is going to murder her. Now, the 16 year old bride will have to confront this and, perhaps, try to avoid her cruel faith. While this tense situation is ongoing, we're taken back to Lucrezia's childhood as one of the daughters of Cosimo I de' Medici and Eleonora di Toledo. Her freedom at her parents palace, the events that led to her wedding, her relationship with her husband and the marriage portrait he comissioned. This is a retelling/speculation based on the true historical figure of Lucrezia de' Medici, Duchess of Ferrara. Wed at the age of 13, to her dead eldest sister's fiancé, her life was tragically cut short only 3 years later, either by some sort of illness or, as rumors said, by murder. Maggie O'Farrell explores that supposition and tries to bring some depth to Lucrezia, a girl who barely lived.
I hated this book, I really did. It was a huge let down that managed to upset me quite a bit. Firstly, it's horrendous to read. This one is probably on me, I get distracted easily with long descriptions (specially if they refer to arquitecture) while O'Farrell seems to adore them. The story did not need paragraph after paragraph of details pertaining the walls and the rooms. It felt cloying, heavy, like a student trying to reach a word limit, extending the words as much as possible. This book was 350 pages that felt like 600 which isn't a compliment. A lot of the narrative felt circular, with the reader stuck in Lucrezia's head as she minded and rotated her thoughts and preocupations. Only to suddenly have a small, quick change of POV for flavor? Or something? I also didn't like the jumping between timelines. It was clunky and uneven. Mostly, I feel cheated by the summary and the title. There's so much emphasis on the marriage portrait only for it to show up around 60% of the book and not matter much in the grand scheme of things.
Then there was Lucrezia. The writer was right in picking her as a character to develop, she's a historical figure that not much is known about and thus a blank slate. I could not stand her. There were two big problems with Lucrezia. The writer oversold her, immediately telling how special and smart she was but never showing that. Even her conception is special and different, her childhood "wild" and "unique", her artistic talents out of this world, her sensitivity like no other. And all I can say is bitch where. These attributes never came across on page. She wasn't particulary clever, she kept stuttering and second guessing herself with her foot permanently attached to her mouth. I understand being conflicted by the events and not having many options but you cannot claim that after setting her up to be some sort of gifted different kind of girl.
Related to that, the second issue with her is that she had such a modern voice. Feminist thinking isn't a new trend at all, but when a historical female figure starts to sound like a contemporary woman it immediately snaps me out of the story. A girl of her status, with the kind of education she was given, would not have loudly proclaimed her hatred of marriage nor would she dismiss traditional female pastimes just like that.
Besides Lucrezia we have a plethora of characters that are mostly superficially developed. Hilariously, for a book that seems to be going for a feminist retelling of some kind, the character that felt more human and complex was Alfonso, Lucrezia's abusive husband. He had a lot of depth and layers. Even thought I knew he had plans to get rid of his wife I found him sweet and attentive in the flashbacks and was shocked by his sudden violence. If O'Farrell wanted to portray a realistical abusive marriage she nailed it. Blowing hot and cold, the mercurial manner of his thinking, the way you could feel the tension building up the moment Lucrezia didn't conform to his demands... It felt realistic to a sick degree. If only the female characters in this book had been given half the attention and range as him. All women in this book were reduced to negative foils of the protagonist. They were either self absorbed and ditzy, girly used as a despective attribute like Isabella, Lucrezia's sister, or two faced like Elisabetta, her sister in law. Or perhaps they were described as ugly and annoying like Nuncià . Maybe naive to the point of idiocy like Emiliana. Surrounded by all that Lucrezia came across as having a bad case of not-like-other-girls-itis.
I should have DNFd this book, but I held on because this was a buddy read and I wanted to know in what way was the author going to spin this tale. This was a mistake on my part, finishing this brought me nothing but grief. Starting with a 6 pages or so long graphic rape scene at around 44%. I can understand that the author really wanted to drive home the point, yes Alfonso is actually a horrible man under all that gentleman veneer, but was that really necessary. Specially when it's a female centric book with feminist flavouring (here and there) written by a woman. It felt a bit like a betrayal. And then there was the soft reprise of the sexual violence at around 51% to really turn me off the whole book.
Don't get me started on the ending of this thing. I felt so infuriated by it mostly because the author seemed to expect me to read that and go WOHOO GIRL POWER!!!! In what universe is this a happy ending? There's no way I can be happy with a rich girl escaping a bad fate by letting a poor working young woman take the fall for her. I understand that she did not kill Emiliana but, indirectly, her disinterest for her servant and her selfishness caused her demise. Lucrezia never thinks of her during the escape, even thought prior to this she stated that Emiliana could be in danger simply by being in the fortress. And the book presents this as a good thing. Lucrezia is now free and nobody will ever look for her because a convenient corpse has taken her place! The available dead body of a woman who was brutalized quite thoroughly, may I add, because the book doesn't skimp on the description of the barbaric killing. And then her clever escape ended up being planned by someone else who I personally think didn't have a good reason to help her to that extent, even if she supposedly saved his life.
I never want to see this book again.
This is the reason for their sudden journey to such a wild and lonely place. He has brought her here, to this stone fortress, to murder her.
Lucrezia suddenly comes to a startling realization: her husband, Alfonso, is going to murder her. Now, the 16 year old bride will have to confront this and, perhaps, try to avoid her cruel faith. While this tense situation is ongoing, we're taken back to Lucrezia's childhood as one of the daughters of Cosimo I de' Medici and Eleonora di Toledo. Her freedom at her parents palace, the events that led to her wedding, her relationship with her husband and the marriage portrait he comissioned. This is a retelling/speculation based on the true historical figure of Lucrezia de' Medici, Duchess of Ferrara. Wed at the age of 13, to her dead eldest sister's fiancé, her life was tragically cut short only 3 years later, either by some sort of illness or, as rumors said, by murder. Maggie O'Farrell explores that supposition and tries to bring some depth to Lucrezia, a girl who barely lived.
I hated this book, I really did. It was a huge let down that managed to upset me quite a bit. Firstly, it's horrendous to read. This one is probably on me, I get distracted easily with long descriptions (specially if they refer to arquitecture) while O'Farrell seems to adore them. The story did not need paragraph after paragraph of details pertaining the walls and the rooms. It felt cloying, heavy, like a student trying to reach a word limit, extending the words as much as possible. This book was 350 pages that felt like 600 which isn't a compliment. A lot of the narrative felt circular, with the reader stuck in Lucrezia's head as she minded and rotated her thoughts and preocupations. Only to suddenly have a small, quick change of POV for flavor? Or something? I also didn't like the jumping between timelines. It was clunky and uneven. Mostly, I feel cheated by the summary and the title. There's so much emphasis on the marriage portrait only for it to show up around 60% of the book and not matter much in the grand scheme of things.
Then there was Lucrezia. The writer was right in picking her as a character to develop, she's a historical figure that not much is known about and thus a blank slate. I could not stand her. There were two big problems with Lucrezia. The writer oversold her, immediately telling how special and smart she was but never showing that. Even her conception is special and different, her childhood "wild" and "unique", her artistic talents out of this world, her sensitivity like no other. And all I can say is bitch where. These attributes never came across on page. She wasn't particulary clever, she kept stuttering and second guessing herself with her foot permanently attached to her mouth. I understand being conflicted by the events and not having many options but you cannot claim that after setting her up to be some sort of gifted different kind of girl.
Related to that, the second issue with her is that she had such a modern voice. Feminist thinking isn't a new trend at all, but when a historical female figure starts to sound like a contemporary woman it immediately snaps me out of the story. A girl of her status, with the kind of education she was given, would not have loudly proclaimed her hatred of marriage nor would she dismiss traditional female pastimes just like that.
Besides Lucrezia we have a plethora of characters that are mostly superficially developed. Hilariously, for a book that seems to be going for a feminist retelling of some kind, the character that felt more human and complex was Alfonso, Lucrezia's abusive husband. He had a lot of depth and layers. Even thought I knew he had plans to get rid of his wife I found him sweet and attentive in the flashbacks and was shocked by his sudden violence. If O'Farrell wanted to portray a realistical abusive marriage she nailed it. Blowing hot and cold, the mercurial manner of his thinking, the way you could feel the tension building up the moment Lucrezia didn't conform to his demands... It felt realistic to a sick degree. If only the female characters in this book had been given half the attention and range as him. All women in this book were reduced to negative foils of the protagonist. They were either self absorbed and ditzy, girly used as a despective attribute like Isabella, Lucrezia's sister, or two faced like Elisabetta, her sister in law. Or perhaps they were described as ugly and annoying like Nuncià . Maybe naive to the point of idiocy like Emiliana. Surrounded by all that Lucrezia came across as having a bad case of not-like-other-girls-itis.
I should have DNFd this book, but I held on because this was a buddy read and I wanted to know in what way was the author going to spin this tale. This was a mistake on my part, finishing this brought me nothing but grief. Starting with a 6 pages or so long graphic rape scene at around 44%. I can understand that the author really wanted to drive home the point, yes Alfonso is actually a horrible man under all that gentleman veneer, but was that really necessary. Specially when it's a female centric book with feminist flavouring (here and there) written by a woman. It felt a bit like a betrayal. And then there was the soft reprise of the sexual violence at around 51% to really turn me off the whole book.
Don't get me started on the ending of this thing. I felt so infuriated by it mostly because the author seemed to expect me to read that and go WOHOO GIRL POWER!!!! In what universe is this a happy ending? There's no way I can be happy with a rich girl escaping a bad fate by letting a poor working young woman take the fall for her. I understand that she did not kill Emiliana but, indirectly, her disinterest for her servant and her selfishness caused her demise. Lucrezia never thinks of her during the escape, even thought prior to this she stated that Emiliana could be in danger simply by being in the fortress. And the book presents this as a good thing. Lucrezia is now free and nobody will ever look for her because a convenient corpse has taken her place! The available dead body of a woman who was brutalized quite thoroughly, may I add, because the book doesn't skimp on the description of the barbaric killing. And then her clever escape ended up being planned by someone else who I personally think didn't have a good reason to help her to that extent, even if she supposedly saved his life.
I never want to see this book again.
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