My boy, you might think an old woman hasn’t much to say about the living, but your grandmother knows when a person does right by her and when they don’t. In this bed, I have little else to do but scratch my life down with this pencil. And I have little left to me but the thought of you my grandchild who I’ve known only in the warmth of your mother’s belly under my hand. Even if you never come home, you should understand the way our life once was, your grandfather, your mother, and I, and all the little things that make its loss so very terrible in my mind. The Morrow family, they were a worry to ours from day one. And once you know what they took from us, you might just understand the kind of people you come from.
In the upper Midwest of the early 1900s, two women struggle to make a living on neighboring farms. For one, their hardscrabble life comes easily, while the other longs for the excitement of the city. Though they depend on one another for survival and companionship, their friendship proves as rugged as the land they farm. While the Great Depression looms, the delicate balance of their relationship tips, pitting neighbor against neighbor, and exposing the dark secrets they hide.
In The Quickening, Michelle Hoover explores the polarization of the human soul in times of hardship and the instinctual drive for self-preservation by whatever needs necessary. A novel of lyrical precision and historical consequence, this debut reflects the resilience and sacrifices required even now in our modern troubled times.