She had lost a husband in war and knew one cannot hold back time, that a beloved parental home is home only when the family that made it beloved live in it. I understood it and the protagonist, Laurel. Last spring, all these years later, as I try to decide what to do with many of the things accumulated in that period of my life, I reread the book.
I wanted my great grandmother's bread bowl, a painting of my father's old homeplace, the silver sugar spoon I sneaked from my mother's silver drawer to dig in the sandbox. That woman was tasteless, shallow, silly-everything her mother had not been. She left a home in which she had grown up and that had been carefully tended by her mother to her widowed father's late-life second wife without resistance. I hated it, mainly because I felt the protagonist, Laurel, was bloodless. When I first read the book, I was in my thirties. I hated it, mainly because I felt the protagon …more Have you read it? I would be happy to share my views.
Gaye Ingram Have you read it? I would be happy to share my views.
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