I finished She Sings of Old, Unhappy, Far-off Things a few days ago, but needed some time to think about it. The writing is most definitely lovely and the story compelling. There is a lot going on in the novel and the author's style makes you want to savor every single word. The characters talk to themselves way more than I'm used to in fiction, but don't many of us do that in real life?
She Sings can dig down deep and pull at the reader's heartstrings. Though nothing like this has ever happened in my life, I relate all too well to Wyck when she says: "I don't want this, damn it."
You can find yourself feeling things you never wanted in your heart, things that are better left outside of it. Wyck has a philosophy that speaks to anyone who finds humanity a bit too much sometimes: “Plants and animals – give them enough time and attention and love, and they’ll never let you down." But, telling yourself you won't fall for somebody doesn't actually keep that from happening, would it be that it could.
The distinct differences between Wyck and the woman she grows to adore, Margaret, drive this novel, making it both oddly endearing and exasperating. Margaret, supposedly older and wiser, had me putting down my Kindle a few times to blow off some steam. I get how hard it is for her to give up the life she has known for decades for a love that her own relatives find hard to accept. I do get that. Homophobia hurts most when it comes from family.
But I also understand Wyck's disillusionment with Margaret's reluctance to come out: “When was the last time your life was threatened because you were a lesbian, Margaret? Oh, that’s right. It would never happen to you because you’ll never acknowledge the truth of who you are, right? You’ll lie and deny and get married so no one will know."
It's these heartache and struggles swirling through the story that make it both believable and less sappy when Margaret finally (and genuinely) finds others' attitudes about love bewildering: “What scandal? I’m a fifty-three-year-old widow who fell in love with someone else after my husband died. Where is the scandal in that?”
I will definitely keep this on my Kindle to be reread someday soon. :)
She Sings can dig down deep and pull at the reader's heartstrings. Though nothing like this has ever happened in my life, I relate all too well to Wyck when she says: "I don't want this, damn it."
You can find yourself feeling things you never wanted in your heart, things that are better left outside of it. Wyck has a philosophy that speaks to anyone who finds humanity a bit too much sometimes: “Plants and animals – give them enough time and attention and love, and they’ll never let you down." But, telling yourself you won't fall for somebody doesn't actually keep that from happening, would it be that it could.
The distinct differences between Wyck and the woman she grows to adore, Margaret, drive this novel, making it both oddly endearing and exasperating. Margaret, supposedly older and wiser, had me putting down my Kindle a few times to blow off some steam. I get how hard it is for her to give up the life she has known for decades for a love that her own relatives find hard to accept. I do get that. Homophobia hurts most when it comes from family.
But I also understand Wyck's disillusionment with Margaret's reluctance to come out: “When was the last time your life was threatened because you were a lesbian, Margaret? Oh, that’s right. It would never happen to you because you’ll never acknowledge the truth of who you are, right? You’ll lie and deny and get married so no one will know."
It's these heartache and struggles swirling through the story that make it both believable and less sappy when Margaret finally (and genuinely) finds others' attitudes about love bewildering: “What scandal? I’m a fifty-three-year-old widow who fell in love with someone else after my husband died. Where is the scandal in that?”
I will definitely keep this on my Kindle to be reread someday soon. :)
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