Welcome back to the blog!

Last week, I mentioned how I was all set to finish reading three books by the end of January. The third book, and one I’d been waiting for since last year, was Lucy by the Sea by Elizabeth Strout.

I have mentioned before how big a fan I am of Elizabeth Strout’s writing, and I’m not alone: Strout has been nominated for writing awards including the PEN/Faulkner, the Orange Prize for Fiction, and the Booker (twice!), as well as winning the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction for her wonderful novel Olive Kitteridge, amongst a host of other prizes.

Lucy by the Sea continues the story of one of her most famous characters, Lucy Barton. Previous novels featuring Lucy have been My Name is Lucy Barton, Anything is Possible and Oh William!

In this newest iteration, Strout features Lucy in the midst of the Covid-19 pandemic. I have avoided books about or set during the pandemic until now, as I feel it is just too recent and painful to go back to. However, I made an exception for Strout, and was interested to see where she went with this novel.

The book was as wonderfully written as all her others. She really is a master storyteller, and manages to write with such engaging warmth and empathy for all her characters that you just fall in love with them.

The story is set mostly on the coast of Maine, where Lucy’s ex-husband William insists that he take her to a safe coastal house to get out of New York at the start of the pandemic. Lucy expresses a refusal to believe that things are going to get all that bad – as in reality many of us did – but agrees to leave with him, thinking she will be back in her apartment in a couple of weeks.

As the weeks and months go by and the reality of the situation unfolds, she is forced to admit that it was a good idea to leave the city. As she and William are forced to quarantine together, she contemplates their shared history and relationship, as well as questioning her own identity, along with making friends with locals and longing to see her two grown up daughters. Her anguish at missing their regular visits to Bloomingdales and her worry and concern for them is a reminder of the separation so many people experienced during Covid.

When she finally meets up with them after months apart, Strout hits just the right note of emotion. She is never sentimental, and the humanity of her characters are so real that it takes a while after finishing the book not to think they are people you actually know. You could be forgiven for thinking that this was a memoir, rather than a novel, so real are the recent events and Strout’s characters’ reactions to them. What is more remarkable is that Strout manages to make this an enjoyable book filled with small moments of happiness, despite the predicament they find themselves in.

I didn’t want this book to end, and it left me with that familiar feeling when you come to the climax of a great book: what to read next. When you read a favourite author, I think it can be difficult to pick up a new book with the same enthusiasm. I have had a couple of false starts this week, but have just picked up some library reads, so will hopefully report back on my first book for February soon!

Happy reading (and writing) until next week : )