Customer Reviews

The Lost Mother

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Amazing. I got this book from a friend of mine who owns a bookstore and who knows I am a fan of Mary McGarry Morris. I just finished it and felt compelled to post this review, because the book was so powerful. A real tug at - and from - the heart. I couldn't put it down. Like all Mary McGarry Morris' characters, these characters got so stuck in my head that I'm still hearing their voices. The pacing is breathtaking, often suspenseful. The story is haunting. The writing is beautiful. The character of Henry Talcott is an American classic, as I think this book is destined to be. The Talcott children, Thomas and Margaret, seemed so real that I ached for them in their search. Gladys, old Bibeau, Jesse-boy, the Farleys, Aunt Lena, Sister Mary Christopher, are all fabulous characters and very believable because of the depth and precision of their portrayals. I think "THE LOST MOTHER" is most like "VANISHED", Mary McGarry Morris' first novel which was nominated for major literary prizes (and which before this was my favorite novel by the author). "THE LOST MOTHER" and "VANISHED" share a simple tone and lyrical voice that make both books flow. In the end, it is a haunting melody, a joy to read, and tremendous on all fronts.

It is the nature of childhood to view the world from an innocent perspective. When Irene Talcott abandons her husband and two children, Henry Talcott must leave eight year-old Margaret and twelve year-old Thomas with whatever family can temporarily care for them. Margaret is gregarious, with a constant need for attention, but her brother is not prepared to assume the role of mother. This Vermont family shoulders a familiar burden in the years of Great Depression, beset with the constant threat of poverty and homelessness.

Leaving Margaret and Thomas at the homes of relatives, friends and neighbors until each becomes unbearable, the small family is faced with insurmountable problems: Gladys Bibeau loves the children, more than willing to help her lifelong friend Henry, but her senile father demands all of his daughter's attentions, jealous even of the children; Aunt Lena and Uncle Max depend upon Lena's income as a hairdresser to support them, her clientele become scarce as her daily drinking alienates even her husband and puts brother and sister in jeopardy; Mr. Farley, now the owner of the Talcott's farm, is happy to see Henry in reduced circumstances, but his wife, Phyllis, covets the charming and pretty Margaret, scheming for custody of the girl, while barely tolerating Thomas. The Farley's crippled son, fifteen year-old Jesse-boy, is delighted with the prospect of Margaret living in his house, his curiosity about the opposite sex bordering on the deviant.

The children's naiveté contrasts sharply with the self-serving hypocrisy of Phillis Farley, a woman who sacrifices their fragile innocence for the satiety of her broken son, his mind as distorted as his invalid body. The good intentions of Morris' complex characters are warped by their selfish motives and innate lack of compassion, as the author deftly exposes the indifference of a bureaucratic system blinded to its own inadequacies. Brother and sister still reeling from the loss of their mother in this classic battle of good and evil, the ill-intentioned masquerade in sheep's clothing. Even in the most extreme conditions, Thomas and Margaret never lose faith in their father's love for them. Their mother, the beautiful Irene, is deeply flawed, yet even she is sympathetic, driven by longing for a better life than her marriage offers, crippled by guilt but incapable of giving her children the emotional security they deserve.

Stunningly imagined, this chilling tale is consistently fraught with tension, the human condition this author's forte. It is impossible to imagine more frightening circumstances than those the Talcott children endure in the name of love, clinging to their faith in the one man who may avert a fate to terrible to bear. This extraordinary novel never misses a beat, rolling like a freight train towards its shocking conclusion, a novel that will not be quickly forgotten. Like the desperate boy and girl in The Night of the Hunter, Thomas and Margaret leave a lasting impression on the reader, a compelling glimpse into the dark heart of an indifferent fate. Luan Gaines/2005.

Mary McGarry Morris is the master of the emotional and poignant. Her sense of character, her aptitude for dramatics, and her ability to evoke a time and place is unsurpassed; these skills have easily elevated her to the rank of one of America's greatest novelists. In The Lost Mother, her latest literary masterpiece, she transports the reader to depression-era rural Vermont, where the grim realities of life for the Talcott family have hit home hard - food has become a luxury, work is in short supply, and their home has recently been taken from them. For eleven-year-old Thomas Talcott and his eight-year-old sister Margaret, the world is looking pretty bleak, and it looks as though things are going to get much worse.

Told from the perspective of Thomas, the story begins just after their mother Irene, has abandoned them. Their father, Henry Talcott, who works a roving cattle-butcher, is struggling to keep the family together. Times are tough: Henry has recently has lost his farm and most of his source of revenue; he tries to wrestle a living from odd construction jobs, but it's not enough to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. The three of them are homeless, hungry, and living in a ratty, decrepit old tent on the edges of a dairy farm recently sold to local businessman Fred Farley. With a harsh Vermont winter on the way, one would think things couldn't get any worse, but as events keep piling up, Thomas and Margaret, basically left to their own devices, are forced to embark on a bitter struggle for survival.

The children are unrelentingly tossed from one calamitous situation to another, frantically holding onto the hope that soon their mother will return and that "in a loved one's beauty, they'll find solace, and comfort in her presence." Thomas soon gets into trouble with the local sheriff after being cheated by an avaricious storeowner; he's accused of stealing a pocketknife when he actually paid for it. Then Henry's search for gainful employment is thwarted when he is maliciously framed and imprisoned. Thomas views his father's despair with a kind if terrifying helplessness. "If he can't cope with the forces against them, then who could? What would become of them?" All he sees is only a life of bleakness ahead: "a life of tents and bucking, smoking trucks."

When the land on which the family's tent is pitched is finally sold out from under them, the two children are shunted between a number of friends and relatives. They briefly stay with Aunt Lena, a drunken, fading ex-beauty shop owner "made dumb by her desperation," but she's a failure, and her gigolo husband Max, has no time for them. Soon they're hauled off to stay with the Farley's, where Phyllis Farley yearns for the attractive and sweet Margaret; she deviously schemes for the girl's attentions, while barely enduring Thomas, merely seeking companionship for Jesse-boy, her crippled, sickly, and thoroughly spoilt teenage son.

The only person that gives them the time of day is Gladys Bibeau, a plainish spinster, who has, for much of her life, been sitting on the sidelines gazing at Henry with a type of unrequited unanswered love. But Gladys's senile father is irascible and demanding, and refuses to have the children around. In desperation, Henry and Margaret begin a journey to find their "lost mother" ; it's a jolting, momentary world that is full of illusion and false hope, where they're obliged to make the best of any given situation they land themselves in. Margaret often resorts to tears, while Thomas is constantly left to pick up the pieces and keep his little sister from fading.

With an almost adult sensibility, Thomas looks at the world with a type of world-weary wisdom. With a brain "like a clock, referencing each disappointment, fear or deprivation as just another tick, moving him a second, minute, hour, day closer to the comfort of his mothers arms."

Yes - it's all pretty grim, but what makes the narrative so tolerable, and indeed quite beautiful, is Morris's astonishingly astute and accomplished prose. She is a master storyteller, who is able to weave a story of great tragedy, while as the same time brandishing a tale that is full redemption, salvation, and ultimately love. The Lost Mother is simply one the most life affirming novels to be released in years. And as the narrative unfolds and moves towards its inevitable conclusion, these two dutiful, loving, vulnerable, resilient, and totally endearing children are likely to stay in the minds of readers long after the book is finished. Mike Leonard April 05

I literally could not put this book down and have continued to think of the characters after finishing the book. If you like
Elizabeth Berg or Kaye Gibbons, you will love this book. Excellent read!

The Lost Mother is a beautifully written story of Thomas and Margaret, a brother and sister who have been abandoned by the mother they love. I found this book almost lyrical in it's prose. The author has written this book in such a way that I could feel the pain and desperation of Thomas and his sister as they try to remain as some sort of semblance as a family. Thomas never looses his hope that his family will be reunited even when circumstances are conspiring against it. Your heart will break at times, yet you will find this to be an extremely satisfying book to read.

THIS STORY WILL PULL AT YOUR HEART STRINGS.AT TIMES IT WILL DEVASTATE YOU, BUT STAY WITH IT.YOU WILL BE GLAD YOU DID.

This was my first time reading one of Morris's novels, it was quite excellent.

This was my first McGarry-Morris book. Intrigued by the setting, both the time and the place, I downloaded this from our library network to listen while commuting. I was so riveted by the sad and gritty tale, and by the rich 'voice' of the young Thomas Talcott that I began looking for excuses to take a ride so I could hear just a bit more.

Judith Ivey, with her throaty, distinct voice, was a wonderful reader for this story. I felt the the weight of the Great Depression as it ocurred in two places both familiar and dear to me...felt the frustration and bleak hopelessness of the characters as well as the love that ultimately shows it itself triumphant. The Farleys are disturbing in their realness, as is the Lost Mother herself. The children sound and act as children do, the adults have their foibles and failings; all the players are believeable, right down to the nuns in their habits and wimples.

I am sad to have finished listening, but pleased that my library network has another McGarry-Morris in the audio section...I have already downloaded it.

Wiping my eyes dry, thinking how I've loved this little book. I was a little doubtful before I began: a father and his 2 children struggling brutally to survive during the depression, the mother having abandoned them; dysfunction, cruelty and suffering a-plenty. This story could have been sappy and clichéd and predictable. But it was anything but. The realistic sense of time and place, the fascinating, exquisitely drawn characters, a simple forward style of writing that sweeps you along non-stop through one horrific crisis after another, yet still hopeful and still with moments of tenderness and compassion. In the hands of an ordinary author this could easily have been over the top, but McGarry Morris makes this beautiful story heart-wrenchingly believable, drawing you in to love and hate her characters with a passion. I highly recommend.

I just finished this book. I essentially read it in one sitting (I highly recommend doing so) because I found that stepping away from it caused me to lose my connection to the period and characters that the author has so brilliantly evoked. The Depression is a period in our history that is beginning to fade from memory or comtemporary awareness. Our children rarely know much, if anything, about it. It is a time we should remember, however, a time when poverty and desperation and fear and hopelessness existed in America in ways most of us cannot comprehend. It is fitting, therefore, that we pay homage to those who lived it, suffered through it, and survived it. Mary McGarry Morris has done just that.

The baby boomer generation (of which I am a member) was the last generation whose grandparents (or, sometimes, parents)experienced the Depression firsthand and this story, told through the eyes of a child, brings new understanding of why they were always mindful of the precariousness of life.

The Grapes of Wrath was written with a contemporary's view of the Depression. In The Lost Mother, however, Mary McGarry Morris allows the central character to look back on his childhood from our vantage point. The story is profoundly sad and haunting. In this era, in this country, we find the children's circumstances incomprehensible, making them all the more stark and devasting. It is virtually impossible to fathom the kinds of choices the adults had to make, yet Morris succeeds in making us understand them because she draws her characters so deftly that we are able to inhabit them. Without ever resorting to overt moralizing or judgmentalism, she communicates the ethical minefield that poverty and despair create. Somehow, she enables us to forgive even the mother whose act of abandonment nearly destroys her husband and children. She also reminds us of the resiliency of the human spirit. Indeed, she challenges the reader to rediscover the capabilties within us to rise above extraordinary adversity by reminding us that, at our core, we are survivors.

Prepare to be deeply touched by this book. It took me all day to shake it off. I have no regrets, however, about having been immersed for several hours in the lives of such wonderful characters.