The Burgess Boys

1

On a breezy October afternoon in the Park Slope neighborhood of Brooklyn, New York, Helen Farber Burgess was packing for vacation. A big blue suitcase lay open on the bed, and clothes her husband had chosen the night before were folded and stacked on the lounge chair nearby. Sunlight kept springing into the room from the shifting clouds outside, making the brass knobs on the bed shine brightly and the suitcase become very blue. Helen was walking back and forth between the dressing room ­with its enormous mirrors and white horsehair wallpaper, the dark woodwork around the long window ­walking between that and the bedroom, which had French doors that were closed right now, but in warmer weather opened onto a deck that looked out over the garden. Helen was experiencing a kind of mental paralysis that occurred when she packed for a trip, so the abrupt ringing of the telephone brought relief. When she saw the word private, she knew it was either the wife of one of her husband s law partners ­they were a prestigious firm of famous lawyers ­or else her brother-­in-­law, Bob, who d had an unlisted number for years but was not, and never would be, famous at all.

I m glad it s you, she said, pulling a colorful scarf from the bureau drawer, holding it up, dropping it on the bed.

You are? Bob s voice sounded surprised.

I was afraid it would be Dorothy. Walking to the window, Helen peered out at the garden. The plum tree was bending in the wind, and yellow leaves from the bittersweet swirled across the ground.

Why didn t you want it to be Dorothy?

She tires me right now, said Helen.

You re about to go away with them for a week.

Ten days. I know.

A short pause, and then Bob said, Yeah, his voice dropping into an understanding so quick and entire ­it was his strong point, Helen thought, his odd ability to fall feetfirst into the little pocket of someone else s world for those few seconds. It should have made him a good husband but apparently

Elizabeth Strout

Strout s prose propels the story forward with moments of startlingly poetic clarity. The New Yorker

Elizabeth Strout s first two books, Abide with Me and Amy and Isabelle, were highly thought of, and her third, Olive Kitteridge, won the Pulitzer Prize in fiction. But The Burgess Boys, her most recent novel, is her best yet. The Boston Globe

Strout s greatest gift as a writer, outside a diamond-sharp precision that packs 320 fast-paced pages full of insight, is her ability to let the reader in on all the rancor of her characters without making any of them truly detestable. . . . Strout creates a portrait of an American community in turmoil that s as ambitious as Philip Roth s American Pastoral but more intimate in tone. Time

[Strout s] extraordinary narrative gifts are evident again. . . . At times [The Burgess Boys is] almost effortlessly fluid, with superbly rendered dialogue, sudden and unexpected bolts of humor and . . . startling riffs of gripping emotion. Associated Press
 
[Strout] is at her masterful best when conjuring the two Burgess boys. . . . Scenes between them ring so true. San Francisco Chronicle
 
No one should be surprised by the poignancy and emotional vigor of Elizabeth Strout s new novel. But the broad social and political range of The Burgess Boys shows just how impressively this extraordinary writer continues to develop. The Washington Post
 
Strout deftly exposes the tensions that fester among families. But she also takes a broader view, probing cultural divides. . . . Illustrating the power of roots, Strout assures us we can go home again though we may not want to. O: The Oprah Magazine

Reading an Elizabeth Strout novel is like peering into your neighbor s windows. . . . There is a nuanced tension in the novel, evoked by beautiful and detailed writing. Strout s manifestations of envy, pride, guilt, selflessness, bigotry and love are subtle