How does this just keep getting better, Mary? You have such a beautiful talent for capturing what is spoken between words, between hearts. The exchanges between robert and Lena are just masterful here.
And then I think about the imagined conversation ms robert narrates and how you capture this subtle yet profound difference in the ways the remembered and the imagined dialogue and interactions are presented.
Mary. I don’t know how many times I read this chapter before my heart settled enough to write down my thoughts. And really, there are no words.
Those Limoges cups. The madeleines. Your mother in her narrow kitchen, wanting a window. There’s so much here. The way a woman’s heart cries to her daughter, This is you.
The granite island separating one who hurts from one who is hurting. The life scraped from a life.
This is beautiful, intricate, heartbreaking. Thank you. Much love. xoxo
Lena went to her window over her sink in her large kitchen and held the cup to the sun, low in the sky and full on the china. Like the bones, she thought. Like the baby that died. Like the possible that never came to be. And the cup in her hand, a fragile memory of her mother.
Just remembered the beautiful word we have for such writing - literature. And the cut outs - so poignant, Mary.
This may sound a bit odd, but the space in between the lines is as beautiful as the words themselves. The whole thing reads like a gigantic caesura (or is the correct term caesurae?) Either way, it is brilliant and lilting, sensual.
As I listened I kept asking myself...what is the right length? A half an hour...and I find your voice soothing, in the cadence of the words, and the spacing of the pauses -- a natural rhythm -- and tell myself that I can learn just by listening to you -- I can learn to slow down. For some reason, I just can't seem to master that part of it. Not in the way you do. Well, I have another one coming up, so maybe I can get it right this time? But damn, girl! Just brilliant.
Unforgettable. Masterful. Oh my Mary. I listened to this chapter driving into town and nearly had to pull over, my heart racing alongside your words. The cinematic intensity is spell-binding, beyond stupefying. And those little cups. Oh how Lena only wanted to know “they” weren’t wasted, that nothing had been in jest…only to realize her buried, unspeakable love eventually buried her too.
Oh Mary, is this the final chapter? I’m overwhelmed with emotion.
dense, damn dense, deep, damn deep, good, damn good; your writing pulls me close and quickens my breath because I want to read faster, damn, damn, hann - I am jealous of your pace and readability, hot, damn hot
Glorious, glorious writing, Mary!
How does this just keep getting better, Mary? You have such a beautiful talent for capturing what is spoken between words, between hearts. The exchanges between robert and Lena are just masterful here.
And then I think about the imagined conversation ms robert narrates and how you capture this subtle yet profound difference in the ways the remembered and the imagined dialogue and interactions are presented.
Stunning, my friend.
So kind, Holly, and so detailed. A reader to adore!
Mary. I don’t know how many times I read this chapter before my heart settled enough to write down my thoughts. And really, there are no words.
Those Limoges cups. The madeleines. Your mother in her narrow kitchen, wanting a window. There’s so much here. The way a woman’s heart cries to her daughter, This is you.
The granite island separating one who hurts from one who is hurting. The life scraped from a life.
This is beautiful, intricate, heartbreaking. Thank you. Much love. xoxo
Lena went to her window over her sink in her large kitchen and held the cup to the sun, low in the sky and full on the china. Like the bones, she thought. Like the baby that died. Like the possible that never came to be. And the cup in her hand, a fragile memory of her mother.
Just remembered the beautiful word we have for such writing - literature. And the cut outs - so poignant, Mary.
Oh, Adrian, your words here about this chapter mean so much! With gratitude, Mary
Thank you for letting us know it this chapter is not the last - I also feared that it might be. Exquisite!
Oh, my thanks, Susan. Yes, much more to come.
That's welcome news. Your Substack is part of my weekly required reading (because I enjoy it so much); I must know what happens to these people.
This may sound a bit odd, but the space in between the lines is as beautiful as the words themselves. The whole thing reads like a gigantic caesura (or is the correct term caesurae?) Either way, it is brilliant and lilting, sensual.
Oh, goodness, how generous!
As I listened I kept asking myself...what is the right length? A half an hour...and I find your voice soothing, in the cadence of the words, and the spacing of the pauses -- a natural rhythm -- and tell myself that I can learn just by listening to you -- I can learn to slow down. For some reason, I just can't seem to master that part of it. Not in the way you do. Well, I have another one coming up, so maybe I can get it right this time? But damn, girl! Just brilliant.
Ah, Ben, so kind. I was actually worried that I read the chapter too fast, though I did slow in parts. So encouraged by your kind words.
Unforgettable. Masterful. Oh my Mary. I listened to this chapter driving into town and nearly had to pull over, my heart racing alongside your words. The cinematic intensity is spell-binding, beyond stupefying. And those little cups. Oh how Lena only wanted to know “they” weren’t wasted, that nothing had been in jest…only to realize her buried, unspeakable love eventually buried her too.
Oh Mary, is this the final chapter? I’m overwhelmed with emotion.
Not the final chapter. Much more to come. Thank you for the moving comment, Kimberly.
Well phew. It was an intense one. The “unwritten dialogue” in between Lena and Robert’s exchanges is so potent.
🔥
dense, damn dense, deep, damn deep, good, damn good; your writing pulls me close and quickens my breath because I want to read faster, damn, damn, hann - I am jealous of your pace and readability, hot, damn hot
What grand words: My heartfelt thanks, Mark.