![]() She set the spectacles next to the candlesticks before turning away, the heavy paneled door swinging into place behind her, then stilling. You can wait here? Yes? You can wait here. Wentzloff took off her glasses and peered at me. But nobody ever noticed when that sort of thing went missing. Just a pair of silver candlesticks on a marble tabletop. And yes, my eyes inventoried the room out of habit: no knick-knacks, no sweaters thrown over chairs, no cups and saucers on end tables, no shoes cluttering the entryway. ![]() I already hated the place, the damask, the sagging furniture, the faded cabbage roses climbing the wallpaper. She ushered me into a large foyer and seated me next to a grand staircase. You are our visitor! We are so happy to see you! She had a foreign accent I couldn’t place. Inside, the sound of rattling: the clatter of a chain, sliding metal, and then the door opening and a lady with white-striped hair removing a pair of spectacles and beaming out at me. But whatever fierce purpose they’d once had was now lost in that sure surrender to earth. They’d come from one of the upper windows, that was clear. Was I supposed to ring the bell and ask for Edie? Or was it like a business, where you walked right in? I rang, studied the shredded cards, the patterns in black and white and red. I had no idea how to behave, despite the promise I’d made to Edie’s mother. ![]() Whoever’d done it might be there right now, behind that shining glass, intent and watching. Whoever’d done it had spent hours at the task. I guess it was April then because the hydrangeas next to the portico were already leafing out, the bushes littered with some kind of white confetti, and it took me a beat to realize that all those little pieces of paper were playing cards, shredded into tiny pieces, a king of diamonds and a ten of clubs, but most too small to read. (In 1959 the delinquents in our city weren’t what you’d call creative.) The walkway took you down the center of this great big old lawn, and it was hard not to feel self-conscious-all those windows in the sunlight, glinting and staring down at you. The bus stop was right out front, so when you stepped onto the curb the first thing you saw was a bunch of rude messages spray-painted on the retaining wall. The house had columns for one thing, like one of those antebellum mansions in some rundown romance novel, and actual wrought iron gates. I only went there once, to that Home, but I can answer some of your questions. Everything, The Say So is a timely novel that asks: how do we contend with the rippling effects of the choices we've made? With equal parts precision and tenderness, Franks has crafted a sweeping epic about the coming of age of the women’s movement that reverberates through the present day. Like Luce, Meera is fiercely independent and plans to handle her unexpected pregnancy herself. Along the way, Meera finds startling secrets about her mother’s past, including the long-ago friendship with Edie. As the three women’s lives intertwine and collide, the story circles age-old questions about female awakening, reproductive choice, motherhood, adoption, sex, and missed connections.įor fans of Brit Bennett's The Mothers and Jennifer Weiner's Mrs. Twenty-five years later, Luce is a successful lawyer, and her daughter Meera now faces the same decision Edie once did. Not even Edie’s closest friend, Luce Waddell, understands what Edie truly wants: to keep and raise the baby. In 1950s North Carolina, illegitimate pregnancy is kept secret, wayward women require psychiatric cures, and adoption is always the best solution. From the award-winning author of Over the Plain Houses, comes a major novel about two young women contending with unplanned pregnancies in different eras.Įdie Carrigan didn't plan to "get herself" pregnant, much less end up in a home for unwed mothers.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |