“Shortness of breath?” the doctor had asked her. “Muscle tension? Mental distraction?”
She looked down at her hands and nodded. Yes, to each of those things. Hearing them described so simply should have robbed them of their power, she thought; they were only words. But instead, she felt as if she should defend them. No, she would say. It’s so much more. They’re so much bigger than just those words.
Eleanor is the story of two women with the same name, related but a generation apart.
Eleanor, the first, is a young wife and mother of one, and she’s just found out she’s pregnant.
Sometimes Eleanor swore her life was being written by someone else’s hand. Certainly it wasn’t Eleanor’s. Maybe Hob’s. Maybe Agnes’s, even – she’d asked not six weeks earlier for a little brother or sister.
“And we can call her Patricia,” Agnes had pronounced. “Or Patrick!”
She’s not happy, she feels anxious, unsettled, trapped, and she longs for the open water.
She’s grateful that preparations for the new baby seem to have distracted Hob and Agnes. She worries that those terrible, guilty thoughts are readable on her face. Her attacks come all the time now, but she finds quiet, dark places – such as the closet floor, behind Hob’s hanging shirts and sweaters – and cries there, where nobody can see her.
Then, one day she goes for a swim in the ocean and doesn’t come back.The rest of this review can be found HERE!
Review to come, when I can piece my thoughts together.
More speculative than I was expecting, but probably not speculative enough for big spec-fic readers.
Very much a literary spec-fic story.
Beautifully written, well rounded in terms of story, but some questions left unanswered.