Lucy is the perfect character for Strout to place in such a situation; her naïveté, her second-guessing, her genuine feelings of confusion and frustration can mirror our own experiences of the transformative time. The fear, the unknowing, the concern, the drudgery, the safety, the annoyances and impatiences are revisited through fiction and it doesn't feel like a forced, unnatural setting for Lucy to find herself in. We can all relate when Lucy says, "This will end, I kept thinking. This will have to end. And every night it did not end, or indicate in any way that it would ever end."
Though the pandemic certainly directs some of the actions in the book, and George Floyd's death and the aftermath is also pulled in, Lucy is also caught up in finding ways to safely connect with neighbors, to support her daughters, to consider what is genuine, when it is worth taking risks.
While I first avoided this title, not sure if I was interested in reading already about the pandemic in fiction, I'm grateful I reconsidered. This was a beautiful framing, and there was something cathartic in seeing Lucy experience the muddled head, her inability to read, her grief and anxiety, to recognize those realities were true for me, too, once, but be grateful I'm no longer caught in that moment. It wasn't even three years ago, and I still have to pause when I realize how my daughters didn't set foot in a school building for an entire year. How did we do it?! I'm grateful for having been together and grateful to be on this side of an uncertain time. Lucy By the Sea is a notable, dare I even say welcome, account of an unsettling experience, to allow us to remember and mark the moment and take stock on what we lost, what we gained, what we learned.
(I received a digital ARC from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for my honest review.)
