According to Traditional Chinese Medicine, autumn is known as the “season of grief,” as it is the natural season of change and letting go, from the leaves slowly dying to the world preparing for the stillness of winter. No novel captures the complexities of grief quite like “Lucy” by Jamaica Kincaid, published in the fall of 1990.
When we think of grief, we usually think of sadness and loss, but often, grief is messy and tangled, reflecting the fickleness of the most profound relationships. Even the famous quote “grief is love with nowhere to go,” written by Jamie Anderson, which is often brought up in conversations about loss, fails to truly capture the ways in which Lucy’s grief sits sharply within her chest.
Lucy is a 19-year-old woman who moved to the United States as an au pair from one of the Caribbean islands, presumably Antigua, where Kincaid was born. Lucy grew up with British colonialism reshaping her culture and thus became very aware of the ways in which her identity had been forced upon her rather than being organically created by her, leading to a seemingly everlasting struggle to define herself. Her mother is the main source of her grief and the reason for her deep desire to leave her home and never return. Written in first person, this book is a recollection of Lucy’s experiences starting with her initial move.
In the United States, Lucy stumbles through her relationship with her host family, specifically the host mother, as well as her romantic relationships, as she cannot seem to understand or create an all-encompassing definition of love. She harbors immense anger toward her mother — the only person who raised and cared for her — and is unable to function without thinking about her childhood. Her anger and sadness toward her mother evokes a fear of love within Lucy, as she describes, “I didn’t want to love one more thing in my life, didn’t want one more thing that could make my heart break into a million little pieces at my feet.” She moved to the United States to escape her mother yet is still caught, unable to think about anything else, even thousands of miles away. Her grief hangs onto her and forces itself into a lens through which Lucy sees the world.
Kincaid allows Lucy to reveal her story backwards, setting up the reader to grasp onto Lucy as a character before understanding why she truly is the way she is. The novel never fully explains Lucy’s childhood outright, but uses poetic yet sharp language to invoke the emotions Lucy felt growing up onto the reader. Lucy’s interesting mix of naivety and blunt emotional intelligence is what makes her thoughts and interactions so engaging. With empathy and strength, Lucy states, “The anguish on her face almost broke my heart, but I would not bend,” illustrating her heartbreak simply and directly. Lucy herself is a personified juxtaposition in every aspect.
At times, the novel can be overwhelming and vague with certain sections reading almost like a string of vignettes. As irksome as it is to wish for more detail or explanation about a specific situation Lucy describes, her vagueness is a representation of the sharp turns and unpredictability that come with grief. Lucy is a bouncy character, moving from situation to situation rapidly, yet, at the same time, can also become obsessed with certain moments, reflecting her inner battle with herself. Her grief is sweeping as well as seemingly limitless, and her confusion and curiosity for her new home and new possibilities for life ultimately contribute to her growth.
Growing up on an island in the Caribbean, Lucy didn’t experience typical seasons as Americans recognize them and thus becomes overwhelmed at each new one that comes her way. Kincaid does an excellent job of mirroring Lucy’s emotional states in the seasons, with the coming of autumn reflecting her disillusionment and surrender. In the season of change and letting go, “Lucy” inspires the reader to hold the door open to grief instead of shutting it away.
