![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() (Our aunt did make it to Easter after all, and all the way to July, but the last few months were difficult).Īnything is Possible, the follow up book, has been sitting in my TBR pile for a few years now. Lucy Barton was the perfect fit with it’s novella length format and brief chapters, but it is now forever caught up in my memories of that weekend. But I knew that I needed to pack something easy to pick and put down and something that wouldn’t challenge my vulnerable emotional state. Even during trying times like these, I cannot conceive of being without a book. The weekend of the mad dash south, we had been warned that she may not last until Easter, which is when we had planned to visit. I read it on a plane trip to Melbourne to visit a much-loved aunt who was terminally ill. I first read My Name is Lucy Barton nearly five years ago. I wanted short stories, I wanted some Australian authors, particularly Gen IV Australian Women Writers, I wanted a Japanese book, a classic, some non-fiction essays and I wanted to finish Elizabeth Strout’s Lucy Barton trilogy. When planning my summer holiday reading, I wanted a mix of books. ![]() There was a time, and it was many years ago now, when I had to stay in hospital for almost nine weeks. ![]()
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