MY NAME IS LUCY BARTON by Elizabeth Strout

In Washington, DC for a conference this week, I of course made a pilgrimage to one of my favorite spots on the planet, Kramerbooks, where they display most of the books with the covers facing up or out. There’s nothing better than a delicious buffet of books. So many tempting choices! I didn’t really need a book. I had brought one along for the train ride, and—let’s face it—left a dozen piled on my bedside table, awaiting my return. So I limited myself to just one.

MY NAME IS LUCY BARTON by Elizabeth Strout, the Pulitzer Prize-winning author of OLIVE KITTERIDGE (which I also loved), calls to mind the first sentence of MOBY DICK. In a deceptively simple way, it both echoes “Call me Ishmael” and reinterprets the line through the voice of a woman who is somewhat timid, somewhat brave, and somewhat matter-of-fact. The narrator’s voice is clean, spare, and factual. One chapter begins, for example, “Until I was eleven years old, we lived in a garage.” The older Lucy recalls both her childhood and a time when, as an adult, she spent an extended time in a hospital and her estranged mother came and stayed at her side for a few days.

As you read it, see if you feel the same way I did: like you are being confided in by someone who can’t say everything, but says enough.

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About OnlyGoodBooks

Creator of The Literacy Cookbook (www.literacycookbook.com), I am an educational consultant who also happens to love to read incessantly. I found myself referring friends to so many books that it seemed like time to create a blog to record all of these recommendations. So here it is.
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