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I wish I had loved this book as much as others, but I disliked Nora. I couldn't imagine the self-involvement of a woman who could abandon her two young children for two months when they were losing their father and the security of the world they had always known. How could she even bear to be away from them, not hear their voices, not try to soothe away their fears? I disliked her ingratitude for the kindnesses of Margaret, her aunt Josie, and her sisters. When Josie takes her on vacation in Spain, we had to hear her complaints about Josie's snoring. I wanted to shake her and tell her to buy some ear plugs. And then to thank Josie for her kindness.
I read that Tóibín writes about the silence between the words, but all I felt was the tedium and minutiae of Nora's life which translated to a tedious read for me.
Halfway through the book I became more involved in the action (?) and I quite enjoyed her involvement with music. As much as I liked The Master, I could not similarly enjoy Nora Webster. Not only did she appear to be ungrateful for the kindness of others. She was annoyed by them. I was annoyed by Nora.
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