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Mary and her three sisters rise every day to backbreaking farm work that threatens to suppress their own awakening desires, whether it's Violet's pull towards womanhood or Beatrice's affinity for the Scriptures. But it's their father, whose anger is unleashed at the slightest provocation, who stands to deliver the most harm. Only Mary, fierce of tongue and a spitfire since birth, dares to stand up to him. When he sends her to work for the local vicar and his invalid wife in their house on the hill, he deals her the only blow she may not survive.
Within walking distance of her own family farm, the vicarage is a world away--a curious unsettling place unlike any she has known. Teeming with the sexuality of the vicar's young son and the manipulations of another servant, it is also a place of books and learning--a source of endless joy. Yet as young Mary soon discovers, such precious knowledge comes with a devastating price as it is made gradually clear once the begins the task of telling her own story.
Reminiscent of *Alias Grace* in the exploration of the power dynamics between servants and those they serve and *The Color Purple*'s Celie, *The Colour of Milk* is a quietly devastating tour de force that reminds us that knowledge can destroy even as it empowers.
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An enjoyable read. I thought the style was a unique and interesting take on near-illiteracy. The characters were pretty well developed, especially given the style of the limited dialogue/descriptions. I really loved Mary's simple and stoic take on the world around her. Sad for grandpa's living conditions though.
A tiny, beautiful, and crushing story. It's super short and potent and I can feel it haunting me already.
The only downside was a stylistic choice of the author. I agree with other readers that the lack of capitalization was annoying. I got used to it, but towards the end she explicitly writes about learning capital letters I felt duped. Still well worth a read and a reread, though.