It's early 1900's Brooklyn, New York and Sister St. Savior notices a ruckus in a neighborhood apartment complex. Annie's husband has almost killed the tenants when he takes his own life using the gas oven. Sister is a member of the Little Nursing Sisters of the Poor Sick. She and Sister Jeanne take over the care of Annie and her new baby Sally. They arrange for Annie to help Sister Immaculata in the convent laundry. As Sally grows up under the watchful eyes of the Sisters, she decides she, too, wants to become a nun. The lovely writing beautifully describes a time and place long past. It's a good story of family and devotion, but the story ends too abruptly.

Who would have thought that a good Jewish boy (me) would adore a book about Nuns? Alice McDermott, that’s who! Obviously, she had no idea I was going to read her novel The Ninth Hour, but the book is so warm and generous that it overwhelmed my cynical, Jewish exterior. It is a religious novel, it is steeped in Godly virtues, in acts of forgiveness, in moments of piety and self-sacrifice. But the message that comes through is that devotion to God also requires compassion and love and sometimes turning a blind eye. The Sisters presented in the book all, to one extent or another, compromise for the sake of human decency, for the sake of what’s fair and just even if it doesn’t adhere to God’s Law. That’s not to say there aren’t repercussions but for Sisters like St. Saviour there is a willingness to take action and then deal with God later.

The story of Anne and her daughter Sally anchors the novel in the world rather than the Convent which only emphasises the complications of being holy and being kind. Throughout it all, though, McDermott writes with the empathy and love exhibited by her Sisters, even the hard-bitten Sister Lucy, and that makes the novel a true joy to read.

The story begins with a suicide, ends with a murder and holds a richand beautiful story inbetween the two. McDermott applies all the senses in her writing, from the foul smells of illness, to sounds of rustling clothing to the sight of apple peelings left in a bowl. This is one writer that can tell the simplest of events and hold your attention to the very end. She is a master in the craft of writing.
Partly told by a voice from the future who drops tantalizing hints about what’s to come—for example, a marriage between the occupants of the baby carriages—this novel reveals its ideas about love and morality through the history of three generations, finding them in their kitchens, sickbeds, train compartments, love nests, and basement laundry rooms.
Can't wait for her next novel!

I like this book. However, I did not ever know who the hell was talking, when it was or where it was.

As long as you can accept releasing the space/time continuum you’ll enjoy this book.

This book has been in my Kindle queue for a couple of years, after I read a glowing review. I see that Alice McDermott's novels have all been celebrated and awarded literary prizes. And--it's exactly the kind of book that critics love, filled with precise prose and deep themes of God and morality and human happiness.

I see, also, that none of McDermott's books is particularly appealing to Goodreads readers, even her Pulitizer prize nominees and National Book Award winner. And that may be for the exact same reasons--they're carefully written, as interior monologues threaded with Big Questions, not easily digestible, plot-driven tales. There's no snappy dialogue. There is zero humor. They're the kind of books that many readers--including prodigious readers--call 'depressing.'

After I read the first two chapters, which describe a suicide that resonates through generations of faithful Catholics--families and the nuns who care for the sick and poor--I was ambivalent about continuing. Not because I don't appreciate reality or even gloom in a well-written book. But the thought of reading another 240 pages of despair laced with Catholic dogma was just not appealing.

I kept going, however, not because I was hooked--but out of a sense of duty. I bought this book, because someone gave it high marks. The author was respected, even revered. And--slowly--the book rewarded me. The story (which is utterly prosaic, until the last 30 or 40 pages) drew me in. The questions McDermott raises (and she lets the reader figure out what those questions are) are questions we all wrestle with, as members of families, churches and communities.

In the end, it was a satisfying read, if not transformative. I'll try McDermott again.

Meh. I thought the book was sort of grim and not that interesting.

McDermott is a master at the quietly haunting narrative as well as the use of POV as an element of surprise. This book unfolds in a way that McDermott fans will recognize, but nonetheless be surprised by, in its finely wrought turns, its impeccable insights into the dark and light parts (and where those parts get all muddled up) of the human heart.

Nuns.

I feel like there’s a lot that happens at the end of this story and some of it was hard to follow. I’ll have to read some reviews, and hopefully a synopsis of the ending chapter.

this couldn't get any more maudlin.