After reading Bellezza's glowing review for My Name Is Lucy Barton, I knew I had to give it a chance, in spite of my disappointment in The Burgess Boys (which I did not finish). I read Amy and Isabelle many years ago, and more recently Olive Kitteridge, both of which I enjoyed quite a bit. I wish I could echo Meredith's praise for this particular book, but it failed to move me, even after listening to the audio, which I started as soon as I finished the print edition. I can't remember the last time I did that, but I really wanted to give it another chance since Meredith loved it so much. My Name Is Lucy Barton was named one of the best books of the year by The Washington Post, The New York Times Book Review, NPR, BookPage, and LibraryReads. I am obviously in the minority, as I barely gave it an average rating.
I find it so interesting to see how my reaction to a book can differ so significantly from the first time I read it. Not only did I enjoy My Name Is Lucy Barton so well that I read it in two days, but I also enjoyed The Burgess Boys, which I couldn't even finish the first time I tried. I wonder if my deep dive into Elizabeth Strout's works has allowed me to feel more sympathetic toward her characters, many of whom are troubled or come from dysfunctional families. We don't learn specific details about Lucy's father, but her mother is really a piece of work. The vignettes toward the end of the book read like stream-of-consciousness, which required me to stay focused and pay attention. I think when I listened to the audio, my attention drifted more readily. I understand Lucy appears in two more books by Strout, and I'm eager to read those later this year.
Much of the joy of reading Lucy Barton comes from piecing together the hints and half-revelations in Strout’s unsentimental but compelling prose. . . . She reminds us of the power of our stories—and our ability to transcend our troubled narratives. — Connie Ogle, Miami Herald