
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
A quiet book about childhood memories and the romance of an aunt who used to be a nun. It is layered with memories, the exceptions standing out to create the narrative. It is a story about the ordinary challenges of families, marriage, religion. McDermott is a genius in highlighting the small stories and giving meaning and beauty to them.
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Unfortunate. The word alone could elicit a knowing sigh whenever her name was mentioned, although it seemed to the youngest child, who had given her her loyalty, that it implied something the other sisters lacked, and that was a fortune that might have been found.
An antidote of green.
The city, it sometimes seemed to the children, was full of ancient, buried things struggling to resurface.
And then she suddenly stood, the three children now dizzy enough to be the crumbs tumbling from her apron.
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