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jennathehazard 's review for:
The Marriage Portrait
by Maggie O'Farrell
“If she doesn’t do it, someone else will, and she will not let anyone cut the hair from her head. If it must happen, she will take charge of it herself. It is her hair. It is her head. They can take away her pictures and her paints; they can fill her body with medicines and cold foods and other things besides; they can poke and palpate her stomach and peer down her throat; they can lock her up in her rooms, but she will cut the hair from her own head before she lets anyone else near her with shears.”
“Look. Here is Lucrezia, a small figure in the corner of a landscape with a river, a forest, an imposing stone building. She is moving across open ground, through the dark winter night, running, running, with all her strength, towards the merciful canopy of trees.”
Dear God. I sobbed like a little baby during the last 2 chapters.
“Look. Here is Lucrezia, a small figure in the corner of a landscape with a river, a forest, an imposing stone building. She is moving across open ground, through the dark winter night, running, running, with all her strength, towards the merciful canopy of trees.”
Dear God. I sobbed like a little baby during the last 2 chapters.