“In the winter of 1561, Lucrezia, Duchess of Ferrara, is taken on an unexpected visit to a country villa by her husband, Alfonso. As they sit down to dinner, it occurs to her that their journey to this lonely place has a sinister purpose: he intends to kill her.”
Maggie O’Farrell
In The Marriage Portrait, Maggie O’Farrell imagines the life and character of Lucrezia de’ Medici. Using the little historical events that are known about her, O’Farrell weaves a compelling and beautifully constructed version of Lucrezia’s life. From the beginning, we are immediately introduced to a summary of Lucrezia’s life: her being married off to Alfonso, Duke of Ferrara, and her emerging as dead one year later. While her death was initially written off as tuberculosis, there have been suspicions of murder on the Duke’s part.
While revealing the main premise of the story may seem counterintuitive, it was what fueled the continuously haunting atmosphere behind the book. The sense of the inevitable is shared by Lucrezia and the reader, making it easier to place ourselves in her shoes. Lucrezia is scared, Lucrezia is overlooked, Lucrezia is the reality of so many girls at this time, and the reality is terrifying and distressing.
“She is nodding and making sympathetic murmurs at appropriate moments, but what she really wants to do is look him in the eye and say: I know what you are up to.
Would he be surprised, wrongfooted? Does he think of her as his innocent, unworldly wife, barely out of the nursery?”
Maggie O’Farrell
There is an undertone of thrill as Lucrezia anticipates how Alfonso will do it. The essence of her realization and her helplessness paints a heartrendly intense and vibrant scene of suspense, as does the perceived dispensability of her life as a woman in the patriarchal settings so emphasized by society throughout history. In a world where she’s taught to obey and be the demure little wife, her only method of expressing herself is through her paintings. She cries out for help through this medium, but it’s well-hidden. Her paintings go by quiet and unnoticed.
It’s almost as if O’Farrell is mourning the speculative circumstances of Lucrezia De’ Medici. Every scene is put into a sensitive, flowery sort of description, as if to savor every last scene of Lucrezia’s shortened life. This novel is all things evocative, tragic, and mesmerizing—a gem that reimagines the individuality of women in a world full of cruel men.
~5 stars
