These Precious Days

Ann Patchett is a bestselling author and owner of Parnassus Books in Nashville. I have read a couple of her novels, Bel Canto and Dutch House, but I can't say I'm a huge fan based on those works. A friend loaned me this new (2021) book of essays and I started reading with lukewarm expectations. It is a very autobiographical collection of reflections on everything from knitting to a piece of family furniture, to what she learned from her three fathers, to a treasured friendship with a woman who was dying (the essay that gives its title to the book). As I read further, I became more engrossed and felt she offered me some inspiration for my own life. Two in particular, "My Year of No Shopping" and "How to Practice" helped me set my expectations for the New Year (2023). Reflecting on her role as a bookstore owner touched me as it would everyone who loves to read. She notes that "As every reader knows, the social contract between you and book you love is not complete until you can had that book to someone else and say, Here, you're going to love this." In her essay on How to Practice, she says that downsizing your belongings is a bit like writing vs. editing; you need to focus on one thing at a time, i.e., deciding what to get rid of before you tackle trying to figure out where it will go. Eventually as things were given away, she realized that "The point was no longer making sure that the right person got the right things. The point was that those things were gone" (p. 70).

Publishers Weekly says of the collection, "In this eloquent collection, novelist Patchett ... meditates poignantly--and often with wry humor--on 'what I needed, whom I loved, what I could let go, and how much energy the letting go would take.'" Booklist calls her writing "Mischievously funny and nimbly incisive..." The NYT praises her work, "Patchett’s heart, smarts and 40 years of craft create an economy that delivers her perfectly understated stories emotionally whole. Her writing style is most gloriously her own." And Kirkus says "An enviable life shared with candor, emotion, and knockout storytelling power. "

Under the Whispering Door

I picked this up thinking it would be a light read, fantasy about a tea shop that is a way station for the dead on their way to whatever is beyond. But as author TJ Klune says in the opening Author's Note, "This story explore life and love as well as loss and grief. " And it did, indeed, do that, bringing me to tears when I finished it, even though it had a "happy" ending of sorts. 

The premise is that Wallace Price, a thoroughly not nice man and a shark of a lawyer, dies suddenly of a heart attack. The next thing he remembers is sitting at his funeral and seeing only his ex-wife and his ex-partners in the law firm in attendance. And nobody has anything good to say about him. The a young woman he does not recognize, comes up and tells him that she is his Reaper and has been sent to accompany him to meet his assigned Ferryman. Wallace doesn't want to accept he is dead, but is nevertheless whisked away to a distant place he doesn't recognize, a small town in the wooded hills. His Reaper, Mei, takes him to a weirdly built tea shop outside town called Charon's Crossing Tea and Treats, where he meets his Ferryman, Hugo. He also meets Hugo's dead grandfather, Nelson, and Hugo's departed dog, Apollo, who just keep hanging around the tea shop as ghosts to look after Hugo. We can conclude from various clues that Hugo is black and gay, while Mei is of Asian descent. Wallace steadfastly clings to his desire to return to his life for a while but eventually begins to recognize how devoid of meaning it was. When the deadline for his passing through the door on the top floor of the tea house grows nearer, Wallace tries to make up for many things he now wishes had been different and to help others who are struggling with loss. 

Publishers Weekly says, "Tenderness, wit, and skillful worldbuilding elevate this delightful tale." Library Journal also offers a positive review, "Tenderness, wit, and skillful worldbuilding elevate this delightful tale." And Booklist calls it "is a sweet tale of grief and second chances, and a ghost story about not giving up on even the most lost of souls."

Dingley Falls Fails, and Other Books I Did Like

Ah well, just goes to show that no two readers read the same book...where did I just read something about 'the reader writing the book'--oh well, another senior moment. Anyway, I was trying to work my way through Nancy Perl's recent recommended reading (see previous post on The Grand Complication) by tackling Dingley Falls, which, from NP's account sounded irresistible. While she was charmed by the extensive cast of characters, I was overwhelmed, and after reading over 120 pages, still didn't care very much about any of them. One of Nancy Perl's rules is the 'Rule of 50', i.e., there are too many books and not enough time, so 50 pages (minus 1 page for every year your chronological age exceeds 50) is sufficient to make a decision about a book. Obviously I still haven't embraced this wholeheartedly, but I'm working on it. I will agree with her that the novel reads like an elaborate soap opera, but I was never a big fan of soaps, so maybe that's the problem.
But other books have come to mind because of recent conversations with my book buddy Sara--books I really did like. Once when our talk turned to France I was reminded of a really wonderful little memoir by another Sarah (with an 'h") called Almost French: Love and a New Life in Paris. Australian journalist Sarah Turnbull moves to France to live with her true love and for all her infatuation with Paris and the French, she is never really accepted by them but always considered an outsider. On the other hand there are some things she's willing to change-- and some she is not--in order to fit in. It's not just that she's Australian, it's that they are so French. Well, anyway, it's a somewhat humorous and not unkind inside look at culture shock and one woman's eventual success at coping.
Then Sara sent me this very evocative little poem ("Books" by Dorianne Laux) about someone graduating from high school and standing on the brink of whatever is to come after that and, incidentally, the person has stolen a book from the school library. Which reminded me of a really wonderful book, ostensibly written for young adults (but I can't imagine a not-young adult NOT liking it for that reason) called The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. In contrast with Dingley Falls, this was a book where I came to care deeply about all the characters. The young protagonist, Liesl, is farmed out to a foster family near Munich as the Nazis are on the rise and the Hitler Youth are snapping up any youngster of school age. Her mother has fled after burying her son, Liesl's younger brother, and Liesl steals her first book, a gravedigger's handbook. It is this book that her foster father uses to help her learn to read. Along the way, an old debt is repaid by taking in and hiding a Jew in the basement of her foster parents' home and he and Liesl become fast friends. What makes this book really interesting is that a fairly benevolent Death is the narrator. He is kept awfully busy by the events of the war, but not too busy to check up on Liesl from time to time. What also makes it poignant is the significant and layered role that books play in her life. For example, she steals her 2nd book from a pile set on fire during a Nazi inspired book burning, and Liesl reads from her small hoard of stolen books to the gathered neighbors in the air raid shelter to take their mind off what is happening above. I really liked this book.