Elizabeth Strout captures feelings of profound longing, love, and loneliness in this compelling novel.
Hospitalized for nine weeks with what should have been a simple procedure, Lucy Barton reflects on her bleak childhood. At her husband’s request, Lucy’s mother visits with her, sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed, day after day. During the many periods of silence, Lucy recalls feeling cold during much of her early childhood when the family of five lived in her uncle’s garage. She attributes becoming a good student largely because of the extra hours she stayed after school, huddled against the warmth of the radiator doing her homework and reading until the building closed.
Lucy and her parents are not close, and it has been several years since they have spoken. Much of the time now spent with her mother is taken with gossip about people they once knew in Amgash, Illinois. From the conversation, feelings of resentment and longing arise.
Most of the novel takes place in the daily grind of time spent in the hospital. Once she is released, time skips forward to a writing career, her relationship with her husband and two daughters.
My Name is Lucy Barton is a short, absorbing novel that demonstrates the damage a impoverished childhood can do and how these inadequacies shape the future.