Monday, February 22, 2016

My name is Lucy Barton, by Elizabeth Stout



Like her well-known Olive Kitteredge, this is a quiet, short book with no wasted words that packs a wallop.  The narrator, Lucy, is in the hospital for weeks after developing a bad infection following a routine appendectomy.  Her mother, who she hasn’t seen in many years, makes the trip from the small northern Illinois town where Lucy grew up to visit her in the hospital in New York City.  Through short chapters and broken reminiscences the two share during this visit, we gradually learn Lucy’s background (dirt poor and from a troubled family); about where she grew up and the people who influenced her; and her adult life.  A book that rewards re-reading.  Maybe Frances McDormand will take this on too….. it would be a great mini-series.  190 pp.

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