Reviews for Lucy By The Sea

by Elizabeth Strout

Kirkus
Copyright © Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Lucy Barton flees pandemic-stricken New York City for Maine with ex-husband William.This is the third time Lucy has chronicled the events and emotions that shape her life, and the voice that was so fresh and specific in My Name Is Lucy Barton (2016), already sounding rather tired in Oh, William! (2021), is positively worn out here. Fatigue and disorientation are natural responses to a cataclysmic upheaval like the coronavirus, but unfortunately, its Strouts imagination that seems exhausted in this meandering tale, which follows Lucy and William to Maine, relates their experiences there in haphazard fashion, and closes with their return to New York. Within this broad story arc, Lucys narration rambles from topic to topic: her newfound closeness with William; his unfaithfulness when they were married; their two daughters marital and health issues; her growing friendship with Bob Burgess; the surprise reappearance of Williams half sister, Lois; and memories of Lucys impoverished childhood, troubled relations with her parents, and ongoing difficulties with her sister, Vicky. To readers of Strouts previous books, its all unduly familiar, indeed stale, an impression reinforced when the author takes a searing emotional turning point from The Burgess Boys (2013) and a painful refusal of connection in Oh William! and recycles them as peripheral plot points. The novels early pages do nicely capture the sense of disbelief so many felt in the pandemics early days, but Lucys view from rural safety of the havoc wrought in New York feels superficial and possibly offensive. Strouts characteristic acuity about complex human relationships returns in a final scene between Lucy and her daughters, but from a writer of such abundant gifts and past accomplishments, this has to be rated a disappointment.Not the kind of deep, resonant fiction we expect from the Pulitzer Prizewinning author of Olive Kitteridge. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.


Kirkus
Copyright © Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Lucy Barton flees pandemic-stricken New York City for Maine with ex-husband William. This is the third time Lucy has chronicled the events and emotions that shape her life, and the voice that was so fresh and specific in My Name Is Lucy Barton (2016), already sounding rather tired in Oh, William! (2021), is positively worn out here. Fatigue and disorientation are natural responses to a cataclysmic upheaval like the coronavirus, but unfortunately, it’s Strout’s imagination that seems exhausted in this meandering tale, which follows Lucy and William to Maine, relates their experiences there in haphazard fashion, and closes with their return to New York. Within this broad story arc, Lucy’s narration rambles from topic to topic: her newfound closeness with William; his unfaithfulness when they were married; their two daughters’ marital and health issues; her growing friendship with Bob Burgess; the surprise reappearance of William’s half sister, Lois; and memories of Lucy’s impoverished childhood, troubled relations with her parents, and ongoing difficulties with her sister, Vicky. To readers of Strout’s previous books, it’s all unduly familiar, indeed stale, an impression reinforced when the author takes a searing emotional turning point from The Burgess Boys (2013) and a painful refusal of connection in Oh William! and recycles them as peripheral plot points. The novel’s early pages do nicely capture the sense of disbelief so many felt in the pandemic’s early days, but Lucy’s view from rural safety of the havoc wrought in New York feels superficial and possibly offensive. Strout’s characteristic acuity about complex human relationships returns in a final scene between Lucy and her daughters, but from a writer of such abundant gifts and past accomplishments, this has to be rated a disappointment. Not the kind of deep, resonant fiction we expect from the Pulitzer Prize–winning author of Olive Kitteridge. Copyright © Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Back