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Lydia Cassatt Reading the Morning Paperby Harriet Sc Chessman
Synopses & Reviews
In this richly imagined fiction, Harriet Scott Chessman entices us into the world of Mary Cassatt's early Impressionist paintings. Chessman's gift for storytelling mingles with her extraordinary understanding of these beautiful and significant works of art. This literary tour de force rises out of a sustained inquiry into art's relation to the ragged world of desire and mortality.
The story is told in the absorbing and lyrical voice of Mary Cassatt's sister Lydia, as she poses for five of her sister's most unusual paintings (reproduced in this edition). Ill with Bright's disease and conscious of her approaching death, Lydia contemplates her world with courage, openness, and passion. As she addresses and comes to accept her own position as her sister's model, she asks stirring questions about love and art's capacity to remember.
Lydia Cassatt Reading the Morning Paper illuminates Cassatt's brilliant paintings even as it creates a compelling portrait of the brave and memorable model who inhabits them with such grace, and the times in which they both lived.
"Tailor-made for gift giving, it is so delicate and lovely it seems to have arrived on a lavender-scented cloud." Mary Elizabeth Williams, New York Times Book Review
"Elegantly conceived and tenderly written, this cameo of a novel ushers readers into a small, warmly lit corner of art history....Chessman sees May as vividly as she does Lydia, describing her as a live wire, a woman with outsize ambitions for her times, but also as a devoted sister." Publishers Weekly
"A special treat is the inclusion of color plates of famed Cassatt works like 'Lydia Crocheting in the Garden.' Like Tracy Chevalier's Girl with a Pearl Earring this book beautifully limns the impact of art on a woman close to a great artist though the women involved are very different." Library Journal
Set in the Parisian art world of the 1880s, this novel imagines a poignant time in the lives of the American impressionist Mary Cassatt and her sister, Lydia. Fatally ill and conscious of impending death, Lydia contemplates her narrowing world.
Readers will be transported to the vibrant art scene of late nineteenth-century Paris in this richly textured portrait of the relationship between Mary Cassatt and her sister Lydia.
Beginning in the autumn of 1878, Lydia Cassatt Reading the Morning Paper dreams its way into the intimate world of Cassatt's older sibling. Told in the reflective, lyrical voice of Lydia, who is dying of Bright's disease, the novel opens a window onto the extraordinary age in which these sisters lived, painting its sweeping narrative canvas with fascinating real-life figures that include Pierre-Auguste Renoir and Edgar Degas, Cassatt's brilliant, subversive mentor.
Featuring five full-color plates of Cassatt's paintings, this is a moving and illuminating exploration of the illusive nature of art and desire, memory and mortality, romantic and familial love.
Set in the lively Parisian art world of the 1880s, this novel imagines a poignant time in the lives of the American impressionist Mary Cassatt and her sister, Lydia. Lydia narrates the story as she poses for five of her sister's paintings. Ill with Bright's disease and conscious of impending death, Lydia contemplates her narrowing world.
About the Author
What drew you to the story of Lydia? How deeply did you have to delve into Mary Cassatt's world to recreate her life and the lives of her family?
I loved the paintings for which Lydia posed. Something in the quiet vigor of these images-a woman reading, holding a cup, crocheting, driving, embroidering-appealed to me. The colors and shapes of the paintings, so beautiful in themselves, suggested an ordinary yet precious life, a calm and absorbing presence.
Once I began to think about Lydia in relation to her sister, these pictures became even more haunting and powerful. To know that Lydia posed while she was ill, and that she died about a year and a half after Mary created the last picture of her, made me wonder how she and Mary felt about each other, and how each of them approached Lydia's impending death.
I immersed myself in the world of the Cassatt family as much as possible. Nancy Mowll Mathews' superb biography of Mary Cassatt helped immensely, as did the engaging letters of the Cassatts, which Nancy Mathews selected for publication (titled Cassatt and Her Circle: Selected Letters). I read as much as I could about figures like the Alcotts, Berthe Morisot, and Edgar Degas, and I tried to understand these figures within the context of Impressionism and nineteenth-century American and French history. I also hired a wonderful research assistant, Jennifer Boittin, to help me with the texture of daily French life around 1880; she described the meals that the Cassatts might have eaten, the streets of their quartier, the bits of French that might have come into their conversation. Many other friends came to my aid, with information ranging from embroidery to articles of clothing.
My hope in writing this story, though, was to wear whatever knowledge I had gained as lightly as possible, so that the details could come in naturally and simply, just as they would in ordinary life.
What made you decide to tell the story from Lydia Cassatt's point of view? How much historical information was available about Lydia? What aspects of her character sprang from your imagination?
Although at first I thought of other points of view-Mary's, another model's, Mrs. Cassatt's, a French child's-Lydia kept coming into my mind. Even when I thought of holding the story to a day late in Mary Cassatt's life, or to a week in 1910 when she was on the Nile with her brother Gardiner and his family, Lydia kept appearing in another character's memory. As I searched for a story about Mary Cassatt, I finally decided to look at Lydia head-on, to question her, in a way. Once I began to engage in a kind of dialogue with this figure, I discovered that I was drawn to her very elusiveness.
One of the appealing aspects of Lydia as a character was precisely how little people knew about her. She enters books and essays about Mary Cassatt as a largely marginal figure; and yet I felt, as I looked at the pictures of her, that she could not have been marginal to her sister.
So-I learnt a certain amount about Lydia, through the references to her in her family's letters, and through the intriguing facts I gleaned from Mathews' biography. I could guess about some aspects of her life as an unmarried, wealthy woman, ill with a kidney disease, who had lived all of her life with her mother and father, in Pennsylvania and Europe, as the oldest child of a large family.
And, of course, most of what came into the book was of my own imagining. I created the letter Lydia, as a character, writes to Mary; the sketchbook she wishes she could find; her fiancé, Thomas Houghton; her dreams; her memories. I brought in facts-her baby brother George's death, for instance, or Degas' frequent visits to Mary's household and studio-and wove my imagination around them.
Does writing about a real person limit you in terms of already knowing the ending before you begin?
I actually hoped, at first, that writing about Lydia Cassatt would help limit me in a wonderful way, by tossing into my lap a story already formed. Yet this did not happen! All I knew about the "ending" of Lydia's life was that she died, and that she was in much pain from her illness as well as from the treatment, which included arsenic and drinking the blood of animals. In my first drafts, I planned to work toward her death as my own fictional ending, yet after much writing and rewriting, I discovered, to my surprise, that this wasn't the ending to my story at all, because the point about my character Lydia wasn't how she died, but how she lived.
If you think about it, you realize that each person in the world could inspire thousands of stories. Each story could be true, yet each would rise out of a special slant, a certain interpretation. What I discovered, in writing about this figure of Lydia Cassatt, was my own story, the one I felt ready to write.
Which authors do you enjoy reading?
I love reading fiction especially, although I often read poetry and autobiography, essays, creative nonfiction, and I enjoy plays too. The fiction writers I most cherish-the giants on my horizon-are Jane Austen, Henry James, and Virginia Woolf. I admire many, many contemporary fiction writers, too many to name here; the authors who come to mind first include Michael Ondaatje, Toni Morrison, Kazuo Ishiguro, Chang-rae Lee, J.D. Salinger, and William Trevor. Among autobiographers, I profoundly admire Frank McCourt and Elie Wiesel. I have learned an immense amount about language, passion, and the world from Eudora Welty and Annie Dillard. So many more authors who have woven their words into my life: Jonathan Strong, David Huddle, Alice Munro, Susan Minot, Anne Michaels.
Lydia's disease and the hovering spectre of death permeate the story. Yet one comes away from the novel with a powerful and exhilarating sense of life and of complete lives lived. How do you want readers to view Lydia and come away feeling about her?
I do hope readers come away with a powerful sense of life. I hope my character Lydia can show something about how an ordinary person can live life in an extraordinarily open and sensitive way, right up to the moment of death.
If you had to describe your novel in one sentence, what would you say?
This is a story about the possibility of love and the power of art's creation, in the face of illness and loss.
What are you working on now?
I'm writing a novel in the form of intricately linked stories about a contemporary family, focusing especially on a grandmother, her daughter, and her granddaughters. As in my novel about Lydia Cassatt, this fiction raises questions about memory and love, yet in a highly different way. I am focusing on the ways in which my characters remain largely ignorant of each other's personal histories, in spite of their love for each other.
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