My Amazon and Goodreads review of My Name is Lucy Barton (Rating 5) – Acute Awe. Elizabeth Strout’s My Name is Lucy Barton offers hope to the despairing. In deceptively plain language, Strout evokes a panoply of emotions that leaves readers as wrung-out as Lucy’s debilitating illness, yet equally jubilant over her eventual, if mysterious, recovery. Lucy suffers from the shame of childhood poverty, imperfectly requited longing for maternal affection, indifferent children, humiliating peer rejection, snobbish criticism, and acute anxiety induced by a prolonged but undiagnosed illness. Despite being brought low by circumstance, Lucy the survivor retains her sense of awe at the wonders of the universe. Having been raised with so little, she delights in small gifts that are free: the canvas of a prairie sky at sunset, lights twinkling on at dusk in the city, a rich boy’s courtesy toward a poor woman. Lucy Barton’s only request, in the form of the title’s simple statement, is that her existence be acknowledged. Readers will not forget her name, or this book. Ditto the name and talent of prize-winning author Elizabeth Strout. As a writer myself (see my author pages on Amazon and Goodreads), I offer that testament as the highest praise.
