Child of My Heart

Fifteen is a year of clarity; you’re still one of the kids, but you’re finally beginning to unlock the mysteries of adult behavior. In her luminous novel Child of My Heart, Alice McDermott’s narrator is a 15-year-old girl who has two qualities that give her access to the secret lives of adults: she’s beautiful, and she looks after their children. Her beauty has already shaped her life. Her parents have moved the family to the east end of Long Island in hopes of finding her a wealthy husband, or at least a fancy crowd to run with. Here she babysits the children of the rich, whose fathers demonstrate their relative decency by making passes at her, or not. The novel spans a dreamy summer as our heroine spends her days with her various charges at the beach, happily leading her crew on home-grown, rather sweet adventures.
Among the kids she looks after is a toddler whose father is a famous, aging artist. The narrator’s preternatural acuity is apparent in this exchange with a new client: “Mrs. Richardson learned by direct inquiry that I lived in that sweet cottage with the dahlias (interested) and went to the academy (more interested) and babysat for this child of the famous artist (most interested) down the road.”