(I'm currently enjoying St. Patrick's Day in Dublin, halfway wishing I had time to blog about it and halfway wanting to get back out and do something! Happy Saint Patrick's Day to all, hope you enjoy your day wherever you are and whatever you do.)
If the last five chapters had me excited enough to engage in a heart-to-heart with Lucy, these 5 chapters had me wishing that she would just take a nap--to liven it up a bit, you know? ...and also to allow me to nap too, which is what I started to wish I was doing towards the end there.
If the last five chapters had me wondering, why all the attention on Graham? and where was M. Paul? then these 5 chapters had me wondering, why all the attention on M. Paul? and where was Graham? At this point I just don't like either one of them and can't really figure out what Lucy is thinking/feeling/doing.
If the last five chapters made me forget my feelings on modernity (with all the ghost talk and such), then these 5 chapters made me recall it (the layers and complexity--why does Bronte lead you around the story instead of plunging you into it? why, when most authors strive to get readers to identify as closely as possible with the main character or theme, does Bronte just keep dangling Lucy far enough away to make you keep grasping?)
We are definitely in the home stretch of the book now. Only a couple more weeks and we will know all...well, no. We'll probably not know all. We may have read all, but I can't bring myself to expect Lucy to change so much in these final chapters that we will actually know all.
Actually, right this second, I'm rather worn out of M. Paul's quirks and Graham's shallowness and Paulina's oddities and Lucy's infernal aloofness and stubborness. Can you kill your family by being too aloof and stubborn? Maybe that's what Lucy confessed to the priest?