The mix of the concrete (no pun intended) - "He took his shovel, pushed it hard into the ground, the way you do when you’re done working for a while and want it there when you return" - with the lyrical - "I would have liked to see her walk into the sea" works magic in this section.
Finally - a confrontation! I had no idea when it would happen, and this exchange was so beautifully prefaced by the line, "I had a certain understandable desire for superiority." Of all the ways these two characters could have come together, this unfolding was painful to read. And the metaphor of digging holes is brilliant, Mary. I am sure that once this story is finished, I am going to go back to the beginning and reread it all over again 🩷
I was wondering when, because it surely had to be when not if, this confrontation would happen... Mary the reserved tension, latent anger , you wrote inside the lines brilliantly! And, wow, that last loaded line...
Wow. What a confrontation! How revealing that Robert’s demand isn’t, “Why did you do it?” but instead, “Tell me something about her.” So much more ache and vulnerability in this approach. And his response… the image of Lena walking into the sea fills me with a strange mix of hope, freedom and terrible sadness.
"I wanted to dig a hole. I longed for this work from my past, when my father and I built the storage shed on the south farm when I was seventeen. Hard work, blisters on the hands, aches in the back of my legs, the smell of sweat and dirt, my father’s neck, wrinkled with years and sun. I needed to work without thinking." Beautiful, Mary. And so much hole digging going on!
And somehow I'm reminded in all this of the clown's song at the end of Twelfth Night:
Ah, Jeffrey, you must know that I'm quoting from Twelfth Night: "“I am mad, or else this is a dream. Let fancy still my sense in Lethe sleep; if it be thus to dream ..."! as we wonder who is who and why ...
The mix of the concrete (no pun intended) - "He took his shovel, pushed it hard into the ground, the way you do when you’re done working for a while and want it there when you return" - with the lyrical - "I would have liked to see her walk into the sea" works magic in this section.
I have to admit that even I'm a fan of that last line. The confrontation had to happen!
Finally - a confrontation! I had no idea when it would happen, and this exchange was so beautifully prefaced by the line, "I had a certain understandable desire for superiority." Of all the ways these two characters could have come together, this unfolding was painful to read. And the metaphor of digging holes is brilliant, Mary. I am sure that once this story is finished, I am going to go back to the beginning and reread it all over again 🩷
What a gorgeous comment, Susan, as the novel reaches its climactic point.
I was wondering when, because it surely had to be when not if, this confrontation would happen... Mary the reserved tension, latent anger , you wrote inside the lines brilliantly! And, wow, that last loaded line...
Oh, Susie, your words here means so much. You are a gorgeous reader.
Wow. What a confrontation! How revealing that Robert’s demand isn’t, “Why did you do it?” but instead, “Tell me something about her.” So much more ache and vulnerability in this approach. And his response… the image of Lena walking into the sea fills me with a strange mix of hope, freedom and terrible sadness.
I, as well,, dear reader and supporter!
"I wanted to dig a hole. I longed for this work from my past, when my father and I built the storage shed on the south farm when I was seventeen. Hard work, blisters on the hands, aches in the back of my legs, the smell of sweat and dirt, my father’s neck, wrinkled with years and sun. I needed to work without thinking." Beautiful, Mary. And so much hole digging going on!
And somehow I'm reminded in all this of the clown's song at the end of Twelfth Night:
But when I came, alas, to wive,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
By swaggering could I never thrive,
For the rain it raineth every day.
Ah, Jeffrey, you must know that I'm quoting from Twelfth Night: "“I am mad, or else this is a dream. Let fancy still my sense in Lethe sleep; if it be thus to dream ..."! as we wonder who is who and why ...
Aah, we all need to cross a river of forgetfulness
Indeed, dear Ellen.