WOMEN'S PRIZE FOR FICTION FINALIST • REESE’S BOOK CLUB PICK • NEW YORK TIMES BEST SELLER • The author of award-winning Hamnet brings the world of Renaissance Italy to jewel-bright life in this unforgettable fictional portrait of the captivating young duchess Lucrezia de' Medici as she makes her way in a troubled court. “I could not stop reading this incredible true story.” —Reese Witherspoon (Reese’s Book Club Pick) "O’Farrell pulls out little threads of historical detail to weave this story of a precocious girl sensitive to the contradictions of her station...You may know the history, and you may think you know what’s coming, but don’t be so sure." —The Washington Post Florence, the 1550s. Lucrezia, third daughter of the grand duke, is comfortable with her obscure place in the palazzo: free to wonder at its treasures, observe its clandestine workings, and devote herself to her own artistic pursuits. But when her older sister dies on the eve of her wedding to the ruler of Ferrara, Modena and Reggio, Lucrezia is thrust unwittingly into the limelight: the duke is quick to request her hand in marriage, and her father just as quick to accept on her behalf. Having barely left girlhood behind, Lucrezia must now enter an unfamiliar court whose customs are opaque and where her arrival is not universally welcomed. Perhaps most mystifying of all is her new husband himself, Alfonso. Is he the playful sophisticate he appeared to be before their wedding, the aesthete happiest in the company of artists and musicians, or the ruthless politician before whom even his formidable sisters seem to tremble? As Lucrezia sits in constricting finery for a painting intended to preserve her image for centuries to come, one thing becomes worryingly clear. In the court’s eyes, she has one duty: to provide the heir who will shore up the future of the Ferranese dynasty. Until then, for all of her rank and nobility, the new duchess’s future hangs entirely in the balance. Full of the beauty and emotion with which she illuminated the Shakespearean canvas of Hamnet, Maggie O’Farrell turns her talents to Renaissance Italy in an extraordinary portrait of a resilient young woman’s battle for her very survival.

No one at NUBClub gave The Marriage Portrait a really negative score. Each of us could recall at least one scene in the novel if not several that were very memorable and well written. But whether you like the novel or didn't really depended on how much the universally acknowledged flaws in the book hurt it. On the positive side, everyone felt that the plot moved smoothly and that the book avoided a really horrible possible ending that seemed likely. The story of Lucrezia being married at 15 to the two-faced and monstrous duke Alfonso made an interesting story in terms of Lucrezia's internal processes of isolation, freedom, desire for love, and growing awareness of danger. Depictions of naivete, violence, and opulence were all impressive at times and each of us could point to scenes that stuck with us. Also, O'Farrell's sense of the different possibilities for women at that time and the way she shifts out take on what an equitable relationship is as we see worse and worse positions that women occupy is impressive. That said, no one defended the finale -- it just felt too easy and too much of wish fulfillment. That complaint held for a lot of the symbolism in the book. Does a character really have to call Alfonso 'Janus' because he has two personalities? For real, we have whole section of the book about underpaintings in a story about someone not being seen for who they are? Some of the choices O'Farrell makes here just seem so on the nose or lazy (she falls in love on sight with an apprentice?) that it tarnishes the craftier parts of the narrative. Despite great moments of a servant being horrifically punished or Lucrezia's mother giving her last minute advice at the moment of her marriage, there's just an obviousness to some of the elements that are really stark in the face of the better parts of the book. The strong characters (Lucrezia, her mom) shine while the weak ones (Alfonso, Emilia, Jacopo) make you groan. And as Melanie pointed out, this is not the only story of a too-young bride getting forced into an abusive marriage, cough cough, the Tudors, cough cough. Nonetheless, the novel basically works. We all ended the conversation with middling scores. Whether they were positive ones or negative ones just depended on how much you didn't mind the bad bits and how much you corded to the good ones.