I have read this twice Mary, the first with tear blurred eyes, not because I was sad but because I knew it was the end of something I didn't want to. The second because you write of being human in a way that is far beyond any other human I know and yet... here you are, here is Robert without Lena but somehow not. Quoting the beauty, the minutest perceptions of your last chapter is already done, below and before, which leaves me to say simply this... Never stop writing, never stop being the extraordinary human you are. ♥️
What beautiful momentum in the pivotal paragraph on the sea that stretches from childhood memories of the shore to the more refined city coast to that which cannot be mastered...and so we let go. Bravo, Mary!
Tears, Mary. No words for the beauty of your writing. And I'm so sad to have reached the end, but the characters will stay with me for years. Thank you for sharing your writing on Substack. It's been a joy for me to look forward to these chapters each week. ✨
"She knows I have risen over the story of the piece as if I began it as a young man and end it as an old man." A suitably astonishing image with which to end this beautiful story, Mary! Brava! My heartfelt admiration for your writing!
“Becoming milk” This will forever be the way I think about Robert, about transformation, about forgiveness. May we all become milk through the living and telling of our stories. SO SO SO VERY BEAUTIFUL DEAR FRIEND.
"She comes to me like sky after fire." Mary, that sentence is so lyrical (it resounds in my head) and with the follow-on sentence - "I hold the urn in one hand." - holds us to the presence, the visual, of fire, a turning to a before and an after and then connection through dream. A dream of water, which is both life-saving and life-giving but also destructive, like fire. Yet murky, implicating what's not known, what remains and what remains to be done. The music, a waltz turning on more movement, a wave of remembrance. The associations you make, paragraph to paragraph, are wonderful and wonderfully visual. Great writing!
I have read this twice Mary, the first with tear blurred eyes, not because I was sad but because I knew it was the end of something I didn't want to. The second because you write of being human in a way that is far beyond any other human I know and yet... here you are, here is Robert without Lena but somehow not. Quoting the beauty, the minutest perceptions of your last chapter is already done, below and before, which leaves me to say simply this... Never stop writing, never stop being the extraordinary human you are. ♥️
What gorgeous, generous words from you, Susie. elegant essayist that you are and so well-read that your words about my novel honor me. 💗
What beautiful momentum in the pivotal paragraph on the sea that stretches from childhood memories of the shore to the more refined city coast to that which cannot be mastered...and so we let go. Bravo, Mary!
Ellen, a grand reader you have been as this novel came to its close--with a bit more to come.
And there's cooking that you love so and know so much about. Perhaps a mini-collaboration is in order? DM me if you have any interest ... xo.
Oh yes, I’m all over that…we”ll
Find something interesting to write together
Tears, Mary. No words for the beauty of your writing. And I'm so sad to have reached the end, but the characters will stay with me for years. Thank you for sharing your writing on Substack. It's been a joy for me to look forward to these chapters each week. ✨
Susan, your tears, I know, are truthfully revealed here--and all you say and have said throughout the novel have meant so much. My heart swells.
Commenters have quoted other lines. I don't want these to be overlooked:
I say to my father, “Fire.”
“Yes,” he says.
I thought those two sentences were key to everything in their way, Jay.
What a truly marvelous reader you have been: So apt, so well-read yourself and then so expressive about the novel. I thank you from my heart to yours.
"She knows I have risen over the story of the piece as if I began it as a young man and end it as an old man." A suitably astonishing image with which to end this beautiful story, Mary! Brava! My heartfelt admiration for your writing!
Oh, Jeffrey, your admiration means so, so much, I am deeply grateful.
What a marvelous, lyrical, powerful passage on memory. A perfect ending. Thanks for sharing this journey with us.
Means much what you say .... My thanks. Heartfelt.
“Becoming milk” This will forever be the way I think about Robert, about transformation, about forgiveness. May we all become milk through the living and telling of our stories. SO SO SO VERY BEAUTIFUL DEAR FRIEND.
So lovely and generous, dear dear Kimerly! 💕💕💕
"She comes to me like sky after fire." Mary, that sentence is so lyrical (it resounds in my head) and with the follow-on sentence - "I hold the urn in one hand." - holds us to the presence, the visual, of fire, a turning to a before and an after and then connection through dream. A dream of water, which is both life-saving and life-giving but also destructive, like fire. Yet murky, implicating what's not known, what remains and what remains to be done. The music, a waltz turning on more movement, a wave of remembrance. The associations you make, paragraph to paragraph, are wonderful and wonderfully visual. Great writing!
What a gift you are, eloquent writer and superb reader. 💕💕💕
Be not afraid, indeed. An ending we all might hope for. ❤️🔥
Indeed. Thank you so, Adrian for getting to the end.