In the past few years, I’ve thought often of the Marianne Faithfull song “The Ballad of Lucy Jordan”—“At the age of thirty-seven, she realized she’d never ride through Paris in a sports car, with the warm wind in her hair…”—and I’ve felt little pricks behind my eyes…because Marianne is right that the age of thirty-seven…is a time of reckoning, the time at which you have to acknowledge once and for all that your life has a shape and a horizon, that you’ll probably never be president, or a millionaire, and that if you’re a childless woman, you will quite possibly remain that way.
Claire Messud, The Woman Upstairs (forthcoming from Knopf in April 2013)
