You know the book that you can’t put down, the one you carry in your purse or briefcase, pull it out at stoplights, prop it up on your bathroom sink while you’re drying your hair. You know the one.
Loving Frank, by Nancy Horan, is a bestselling, historical fiction about Frank Lloyd Wright’s clandestine love affair with his client, Mamah Borthwick Cheney. The story is much more complex than that of an unfortunate indiscretion. Wright had the opportunity to advance his architectural genius, worldwide, even after the scandal broke. But it’s painful to watch as Mamah struggles with the desire to mother her children, to nourish her contemporary, authentic self and to be with a man who feeds her soul. The kicker is that she proved to be one of the greatest influences in his life.
The book is all about personal choices and the consequences of those choices.
One metaphorical nugget towards the end jumped right off the page.
“It’s the space inside that’s the reality of a structure.
And what you put into that space will shape how you live”.
My writer-friend, Constance, summed up its meaning in two words —