Naivete bleak simplicity which seemed disjointed at the start if you read this as the first Lucy Barton book. The chapters are like a soliloquy with an underlying sadness till the end.
Sometimes the petulant child emerges; sometimes the privileged woman who is steeped in self pity. Only at the end does she appear as a mother with emotions and the support for her daughters' needs rather than always gazing at her own needs.
