By Mary Gordon
With her husband out of the country, an artwork historian employs a religious yet tricky nanny, unsettling her family existence in addition to her view of motherhood—and of herself
When Anne Foster’s husband accepts a yearlong educating activity in France, she comes to a decision to renew her personal profession in artwork heritage, along with cataloging the paintings of a compelling and long-neglected painter, Caroline Watson. To take care of her teenagers, Anne employs the pious Laura put up. although the younger girl is definitely beloved by means of the youngsters, she rubs Anne the other way. should still Anne be extra compassionate, or may still she behave extra just like the willful artist—and unapologetically undesirable mother—she’s so fascinated about in Watson? because the discord mounts among Anne and Laura, the necessity for solutions sharpens.
Men and Angels is a riveting and refreshingly unsentimental inquiry into motherhood and sacrifice.
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Jonathon asked. indd 36 8/24/12 4:58 PM the twisted tragedy of miss natalie stewart “Well, someone has an odd way of knowing what company I’d keep today,” said the clerk, mopping his receding brow with a kerchief and inching his glasses up his nose. ” He slid two envelopes across the counter. One said: To a young British stranger, absurdly handsome, black hair, blue eyes. The other said: To a young auburn-haired woman. Green eyes. Pretty. Jonathon nodded to the postman and eased me away from any listening ears and over to an alcove filled with pens, paper, and supplies.
Right. ” He scratched his head, displacing one wavy black lock. ” “Thankfully she’s good at keeping them. ” I’d had no knowledge or need of telegraphs, even if our family could have afforded them. At such a price they were a convenience for the wealthy alone. A dollar could be a whole day’s pay for many New Yorkers. I tucked the telegraphs into the drawstring bag at my wrist as Denbury began writing telegraphs of his own in return. indd 38 8/24/12 4:58 PM the twisted tragedy of miss natalie stewart of my remaining money to send a wire directly to Father, one that could not be mistaken.
How could she have known? ” I smiled amid his anxiety as the truth dawned on me. “She’s clairvoyant, my love. ” “Oh. Right. ” He scratched his head, displacing one wavy black lock. ” “Thankfully she’s good at keeping them. ” I’d had no knowledge or need of telegraphs, even if our family could have afforded them. At such a price they were a convenience for the wealthy alone. A dollar could be a whole day’s pay for many New Yorkers. I tucked the telegraphs into the drawstring bag at my wrist as Denbury began writing telegraphs of his own in return.
Men and Angels by Mary Gordon