Northanger Abbey ( Signet )
“A hundred years ago, she would have been considered a lovelorn woman. Today, she is a medicated woman.”
Please forgive me for what I’m about to say. But I wonder, whom should I ask for that forgiveness? I’m not one to talk to dead people; I’m too afraid they might answer. I give up. I accept that there’s something improper about telling the story of someone who kept their intimacy under lock and key. So, I’ll push on. And I won’t ask for forgiveness. Or forgive myself.
A letter crosses the ocean and upends the stable order of a household. A fabulous chaos ensues, a flood of wine, music and laughter that channels the hurt and frustration of a woman who was never anyone’s top priority. That woman is the narrator’s mother.
Catalina Murillo engrosses the reader in a narrative that has the intimacy of a story read aloud. In so doing, she reveals herself to be a powerful storyteller who turns a personal account into a collective experience. Heart and mind, humor and pain. Major themes emerge, without drama or cynicism: the mother-daughter relationship, childhood, and the eternal question: What is love? Or better, what was it? And what will it be?
