2026 #39 The Lioness of Boston (Franklin)

 

The Lioness of Boston by Emily Franklin
My rating: 3.75 stars

My favorite thing about this book was the voice of Isabella Stewart Gardner. Told in first person, the narrative is beautifully reflective of historical Isabella as she navigates social isolation, and finds her way to being a patron and curator. As with any historical fiction, there are liberties, and Franklin does a good job of describing them in the afterword. I did question the choice to go forward with certain intimate details which, as far as I know, is just speculation. I look forward to reading Natalie Dykstra's Chasing Beauty: The Life of Isabella Stewart Gardner to more clearly separate fact from fiction.
My biggest complaint about the book was the superfluous "name dropping." Franklin says that the art show in Paris took place, but Isabella was not there, and the whole scene felt very much a who's who of Impressionism rather than something that enriched the narrative. There were times were the historical references to art works in the ISG Museum felt a bit overwrought, and the dinner parties were likewise too focused on illuminating a panoply of historical figures. Most enriching was her (fictionalized) correspondence with Charles Eliot Norton, and the importance of the Dante Society, as well as her interaction with John Singer Sargent, whose portraits are especially significant to those who know the museum. There were some others as well, but without having a secure sense of the history, it was hard to parse the significant figures from the incidental ones.

Generally an entertaining book, particularly as I live in Boston and enjoy the ISG Museum as one of our real treasures. It is fun to think about how she might have been, and Franklin tries to bring her closer to our hearts as a woman trying to carve out a space for herself (in this case, Fenway Court, as it was called) in a world of art and culture very much commandeered by men.

View all my reviews

2026 Reading Goals: 39/60

2024 #17 Run (Patchett)

 

Run by Ann Patchett
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

While slow in places, this is a very beautiful book, reminiscent in ways of Agee's A Death in the Family--not in terms of the story, but in the way it reveals so many characters. I love that Patchett doesn't resort to chapters headed by the characters' names but just shifts seamlessly through the hearts and minds of the different family members.

Kenya will be on my list of all-time favorite characters. What a beautifully written young girl with an amazing spirit.

Also, so many layers of maternal onion! At the end, it all comes full circle. Without spoilers, it is managed in a way that normally I'd find trite, but instead I was in tears. Patchett often makes me cry. Her exploration of family dynamics is exceptional (see The Dutch House). I love that Run is about Kenya, but also about them all: running for office, Uncle Sullivan in the hospital telling Teddy to run, etc. There's also an undercurrent of the idea of penance, which in Patchett's hands transcends religion and seems to be part and parcel of our ability to participate in humanity.

View all my reviews

2019 #5: The Shaw Memorial: A Celebration of an American Masterpiece

The Shaw Memorial: A Celebration of an American Masterpiece by Gregory C. Schwarz
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I purchased this book in the gift shop of the Saint-Gaudens National Historic Site in New Hampshire, admiring it for aesthetic production and the inclusion of rare photos. Then I read it.

Wow. Each essay provides so much in terms of historical context, and understanding the process that Saint-Gaudens undertook to create his masterpiece(s)--plural, one might argue, because the different versions all seem to express the artist's commitment to perfection (even if he felt he never achieved it). Likewise, one gets a fairly good understanding of conservation efforts as well.

Particularly compelling is Ludwig Lauerhass's essay, "A Commemoration: The Shaw Memorial as American Culture." In reading the first few pages, I rolled my eyes initially at the seemingly hagiographic language, but quickly changed my mind as Lauerhass's well-researched and cited essay delved into an intertextual exploration of poetry and film. Charles Ives "The Saint-Gaudens in Boston Common" is briefly mentioned, as is the score for the movie Glory, by James Horner.

The eternal question of reception and understanding still hangs in the air--and this is perhaps the most valuable aspect of the book. Discussion of Robert Lowell and Paul Laurence Dunbar's less-than-celebratory poems (commentaries on society's failure to act on the lessons of history) helps us understand why we might revisit the monument, and what the role of the viewer is. We can observe the sinewy muscles of the horse, the rich detail in the faces of the soldiers, the posture of Col. Robert Gould Shaw. But what is more important is that we understand the fatigue of that march...that it is ongoing, in our own backyards.

2017 #4: While I Was Gone (Miller)

While I Was Gone by Sue Miller
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

It took me a bit to decide that I liked this book. I almost never read the "Q & A with the author" at the back of the book, but in this case, I'm glad I did. I was happy to read that Miller had trouble warming up to her own protagonist, and it never occurred to me that it is actually an essential part of the book. It is also a frustration--not with the narrative, but because I think most of us can recognize the places in ourselves that we don't love. In some ways it is a tough book to read, but the slow "wisdom" that "creeps up" on the characters (as one reviewer put it), is perhaps more real than your typical fictional arc.

50BC11 #2: Dark Tide:The Great Boston Molasses Flood of 1919

Dark Tide: The Great Boston Molasses Flood of 1919 by Stephen Puleo

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


If you aren't aware of the Molasses Flood of 1919, you are likely, as I was, to chuckle just thinking about the Boston waterfront coated in the sticky stuff. But Stephen Puleo's narrative of this event is terrifying, heartbreaking, dramatic, yet never seems sensationalist. He opens the door to reveal a history not just of an isolated terrible tragedy, but the ongoing struggle between corporate power, politics, and ethnic/class stratification. This book isn't just about the fifteen foot high wave that killed over 20 people (according the legal ruling) and injured multitudes of others, but is about what justice really means when an unexpected tragedy takes center stage against the backdrop of society's everyday tragedies. Beautifully written and extensively researched, this is one of the most riveting historical accounts I've ever read.