I have to confess I think Elizabeth Strout writes better female than male characters. Her last book, "The Burgess Boys," disappointed me. But I had heard good things about "My Name Is Lucy Barton," and it was short enough, so I decided to give it a try.
In tightly structured prose, Strout tells a concise, but encompassing story, of a lifelong mother-daughter relationship, framed within the confines of the mother visiting her hospitalized adult child, in bed.
What comes up between Lucy and Mother is universal--how some children turn out one way, while others do not, what drives one to stay in their place of origin, versus leaving it altogether, and the gossip that small town residents always share between them, no matter what the age.
The one male character I would have liked to have known more about is Lucy's brother, who was made to seem interesting. I also wondered why Lucy' sister, Vicky, was so bitter. What in life did she feel she did not get?
It is a quick read, but an insightful one. It may not land on any Ten Best lists, but it is worth reading.
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