The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows

Can you believe it's taken me this long to get around to this one? To be perfectly honest, I had little interest in it based solely on the title and the vast amount of love it got from, well, everyone. I can be truculent that way. But a sufficient amount of time has passed since the hubbub, that I was quite happy to see a copy show up among my Christmas presents and I opened it up with alacrity over the break. What a perfectly lovely book and how right everyone was talking it up here, there, and everywhere. I was intrigued to find out it was written by two women--relatives, no less. My understanding is that Mary Ann Shaffer asked her niece (and fellow writer) Annie Barrows to help her finish the book once Ms. Shaffer's failing health began to seriously impede its progress toward publication. I'm so glad the book was finished and published and not lost in the shuffle. I wonder, sometimes, how many gems are.

The year is 1946 and Juliet Ashton is a columnist turned author struggling to write her second book, following her wildly successful compilation of wartime essays. Having just completed a rather grueling tour promoting the book, she is back in London and staring at the empty pages on her desk just waiting to be filled. Then she receives a letter from a man by the unlikely name of Dawsey Adams, wondering whether or not she might direct him to some further work by his beloved author Charles Lamb. You see, he purchased one of his own volumes of Lamb secondhand and it had Juliet's name inscribed inside. Juliet is charmed to find another Lamb admirer and immediately writes back to Mr. Adams. And thus begins an extensive and fruitful correspondence the likes of which neither of them have ever known. Dawsey belongs to an extremely unique literary society known as the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. The name alone whets Juliet's appetite for more. And it turns out there is so much more to this little Channel Island society than meets the eye. Inaugurated during the German occupation of Guernsey, this small group of ragtag members meets faithfully to discuss books and huddle together against the encroaching horrors of war. Through their experiences, Juliet's imagination is fired up and the novel she keeps trying and failing to write suddenly takes off.

This is one of those books that drew my husband down the hall and into the room to find out what the laughter was about. And then, of course, the tears, when I foolishly attempted to read aloud an early passage that hit me in one of those wonderful zing moments. Try reading this portion aloud without choking up:

Best to say we weren't a true literary society at first. Aside from Elizabeth, Mrs. Maugery, and perhaps Booker, most of us hadn't had much to do with books since our school years. We took them from Mrs. Maugery's shelves fearful we'd spoil the fine papers. I had no zest for such matters in those days. It was only by fixing my mind on the Commandant and jail that I could make myself to lift up the cover of the book and begin.

It was called Selections from Shakespeare. Later, I came to see that Mr. Dickens and Mr. Wordsworth were thinking of men like me when they wrote their words. But most of all, I believe that William Shakespeare was. Mind you, I cannot always make sense of what he says, but it will come.

It seems to me the less he said, the more beauty he made. Do you know what sentence of his I admire the most? It is, "The bright day is done, and we are for the dark."

I wish I'd known those words on the day I watched those German troops land, plane-load after plane-load of them--and come off ships down in the harbor! All I could think of was damn them, damn them, over and over. If I could have thought the words "the bright day is done and we are for the dark," I'd have been consoled somehow and ready to go out and contend with circumstance--instead of my heart sinking to my shoes.

It was just one of those moments in which the words--the whole sentiment--was just so right that, despite the fact that I'm not fictional, not a man, did not live during or anywhere near just after World War II, and have not had to watch my home invaded, I knew. The words of William Shakespeare connected us and I knew. Such moments are rare and beautiful in the fictional works I read and I treasure them up. As I said, I laughed innumerable times while reading The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society and I saw the events of the time period and place in an entirely new way. The book was so far from the precious and fluffy volume I was expecting that I wasn't completely prepared for how delightful and moving it would be. The history, the love story, the band of friends . . . it was magic. I am, and always have been, a fan of epistolary novels and it was a treat to sit back and let Juliet and Dawsey, Sidney and Isola recount the events and moments of their lives for me through the series of letters and journal entries that make up this remarkable story. I know the format bothers some readers, but for me the slight removal only serves to heighten my awareness of the characters and to underline the subtlety inherent in their private lives. I was won over by each one of them and suffice it to say that a particular scene at the end where a certain someone is on a ladder and another someone is spying through the window still brings a smile to my face and laughter to my lips. I adored this book and think it would be just wonderful read aloud between family, friends, or any group of like minded individuals who share the kind of love for the written word that forms the beautiful core of The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. A keeper.


Linkage
The Book Lady's Blog Review
Maw Books Blog Review
Novel Insights Review
Savvy Verse & Wit Review
See Michelle Read Review
She is Too Fond of Books Review
Vulpes Libris Review