My Name Is Lucy Barton

There is a simple pretext to Elizabeth Strout's new book. A woman named Lucy Barton is in the hospital, recovering from what should have been a simple operation but has turned into a lengthy hospital stay, and her mother comes from a long distance to see her. Sounds rather uninspiring, right? In this capable author's hands, it is anything but that. Strout uses this simple structure to explore the mother-daughter relationship in deep and illuminating ways. Before this visit, Lucy hasn't spoken to her mother in years. Lucy's childhood was troubled and mired in poverty, and there are complicated feelings of blame from daughter to mother, for not protecting her, for not loving her enough, for not understanding her. Lucy's mother skates over all these issues and over the few days of her visit shares simple gossip of the town and general small talk. But she is reaching out from her own feelings of powerlessness in the only way she can to try to demonstrate her love and regret. And Lucy so obviously needs her. In their simple conversation, we gain glimpses of Lucy's sad past and learn of Lucy's loving, healthy relationship with her own daughters and husband. Strout shows that all relationships are complicated and layered with all kinds of, well, gunk. But every once in a while, even in the worst situations, the gunk can be stripped away to reveal love.