«My Name is Lucy Barton» by Elizabeth Strout is the first book in a long time that made me cry. Not crying hysterically, not to sob, and to swallow the lump in his throat and wipe his eyes every five minutes. The straut managed 200 pages to fit all: family, love, relationships with parents, hatred, old age, death, illness, husbands, children, hospitals; no single line of the text doesn’t sound strained, despite the difficulty raised by the fact. The narrative in the book is the first person; Lucy herself Barton tells us a little story that in some mysterious way binds together with surprising ease.
Lucy is in the hospital in new York after the primitive operations and the doctors can’t understand what’s wrong with her. At the hospital she is long, and only five days long from her hospital confinement to her mother arrives from their home town. She sits at the bedside of Lucy in the legs, 5 days without sleep and food in the presence of Lucy she is not eating and is sleeping fitfully, so that it is not even clear whether she is asleep or just closed my eyes and doesn’t want to talk.
Her mother tells Lucy gossip about common acquaintances and friends of friends from their city. These seemingly empty topics the only thing they can say. The only safe area of communication of mother and daughter. The family of Lucy — and she, for a moment, has a husband and two daughters, her mother is not interested. Her success as the author of two published short stories, too. As her friends, and life in new York. Lucy’s father seemed not to exist, only referred to as a secondary friend. Be only gossip about friends and a discussion of the nurses, doctor and magazine about celebrities. The text of the book is simple, with the magic of the author made me sympathize with the main character and remember my childhood and my family.
Elizabeth Strout, describing the life of one woman puts before the reader the question: what defines you, his family, his past or his decisions and actions? Is it possible to separate themselves from the stereotypes and expectations of your family? This question is especially relevant, if the family is dysfunctional. Where are the boundaries of the individual? Barton has answered these questions, and tells how these questions are answered by her friends. Everyone is different, and someone thinks the ability to separate from families and parents with dignity, and someone is a sin. I found it very interesting to compare the solution of Lucy and her brother and sisters, and what consequences these decisions led.
I think these themes are versatile enough to make everyone empathize with Lucy.
The only thing missing from the book — volume. The story clearly has untapped potential, and the Strout — the ability to create a weighty Tome. Yes, and I would like to read more about Lucy and her life now, what to hide. However, the short-form of the novel has its strengths. Each word is verified and there are no excess events in this beautiful novel.