The Bridges of Madison County

A bride brought from Italy—a land symbolizing passion, sensuality, and timeless beauty—Francesca settles into a life of domesticity in Iowa, a land seemingly symbolizing the absence of those Italian virtues (it is a testament to Robert’s creative vision that he uses his photography to find beauty in the locale). It is in this relatively mundane, dispossessed context that Francesca meets the man who embodies everything she’s dreamed of but had set aside. Robert loves her for herself. Her mind, educated and brilliant, finds its audience; she basks in that love for a few precious days. Hers is a common experience among women whose creative sensibilities often go to waste in a world more interested in men.

The tepidness of Francesca’s marriage to Richard symbolizes the tepidness of her Midwestern life in general. The marriage is defined, in part, by its consequence of taking Francesca’s dreams from her. A stolid and good provider but unimaginative as a lover and husband, Richard never really understands the creative and powerful woman he has brought to America after his wartime naval tour of Italy. He wants to be the caretaker and resents her efforts to be a teacher. He’s not mean or ill-willed, and on his deathbed, he apologizes to her: “Francesca, I know you had your own dreams, too. I’m sorry I couldn’t give them to you” (163-64).

The heroic journey of transformation applies to Francesca as much as does to Robert; Francesca’s life is utterly transformed during her four days with him. Though she carefully closes off that episode and resumes her somewhat dull existence as a housewife, inside she’s as different as a person can be. She has experienced the wonder of absolute connection with another person. Thereafter, despite her sorrow, Francesca finds herself at peace. She no longer needs to search for fulfillment because she found it with Robert, who shares it with her, perhaps beyond space and time. 

Francesca and Richard’s son, Michael, learns in middle age about his mother’s brief infidelity and that his wellbeing is one of the reasons she never left the family for her lover. Michael’s love for his mother overpowers his shock at learning of her betrayal, and he agrees with his sister that their mother’s story should be told. His compassion is a credit to himself as well as to the woman who raised him.

Michael’s sister, Carolyn, feels an instant solidarity with her mother when she reads about her affair with Robert Kincaid. With Michael, she campaigns for Francesca’s story to be brought to the world. Her perspective as a woman jibes with her mother’s, and she hopes people can learn from Francesca’s experience about the vast extent of women’s loneliness in a world still too patriarchal to fully incorporate women’s perspectives, creativity, and ability to return fully the love they receive. 

An elderly saxophone player who befriends Robert in his last year of life, Nighthawk Cummings describes how moved he was at the photographer’s achingly tragic description of his affair with Francesca. As a musician, Cummings understands well the creative “magic” that inspires great artists, and Robert’s story shows how that magic can transform lives. He also introduces the novel’s comparison between love and artwork. As they are both artists, he and Robert share an understanding of unvarnished beauty, authenticity, and inspiration—and it is this shared awareness that seems to facilitate and strengthen their bond.

Cummings sees in Robert a person of profound emotion and awareness, and he recognizes those qualities as well in Francesca. He composes a tune in her honor, entitled “Francesca,” as a gift for Robert in recognition of his profound experience. The musical piece marks a pattern, as Francesca is the subject of artwork in the novel; first in Robert’s photography, and second in the musical tribute. As Francesca is, in a sense, immortalized in these artworks, the pattern emphasizes her association with a timeless, metaphysical beauty that transcends the merely pleasing.