Little Paris Bookshop by Nina George

Reviewed by Jeanne

Jean Perdu considers himself a literary apothecary, a man who prescribes books to help people heal.  That’s also the name he gives his books shop, which is actually a book barge located in the Seine.  Perdu won’t sell books to people if he feels the book is not right for them; he queries them about their lives and then decides what book is needed.  He lives a rather solitary life, until the day that a broken-hearted woman moves into his building, a woman whose husband has left her for another woman. Perdu is drawn to her against his will, unable to stop himself.  When she needs furniture, he opens up an unused room to give her a table and chair.  

When he sees her next, she presses a letter on him, a letter she found in the table.  A letter from Manon, the woman Perdu loved and lost twenty years previously.

What he reads changes his life profoundly and sets him on a journey to find his life again. 

Nina George’s book is about a band of lost souls who set out on a quest to find the next chapter in their own stories.  The descriptions of Paris and the French countryside are evocative and lyrical.  The book listed a translator, so I assumed the author was French—but you know what they say about assumptions. George is actually a well-known German author and journalist who writes both fiction and non-fiction.  However, the description of the journey to Provence the characters take is a reflection of a real life journey taken by the author:  all the little villages exist. The descriptions of the food and wine are just as delightful and delectable.

The book is as rich with literary allusions as it is with fully realized characters, all of whom revel in the power of the word to change one’s life.   It is, as one reviewer said, a love-song to books but it’s also a mediation on love and loss, life and death, grief and peace.  I’ll admit I got a bit bogged down at times—the characters, especially M. Perdu, are given to introspection—but the writing is lovely.  The book references are both classic and contemporary, and cover all genres including children’s books, which is why readers find the book so irresistible.  There’s a happy jolt of recognition when a book or author I know is mentioned, especially if it’s unexpected:  Tom’s Midnight Garden or Pippi Longstocking or Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy co-exist with Kafka and Cervantes.  The last section of the book contains a list of books and what they will cure, much like a list of medicinal herbs.

Overall, The Little Paris Bookshop is a sweet and charming book with passionate characters in search of happy—or at least bittersweet—endings. It’s also a call for every person to enjoy the things life has to offer instead of waiting and regretting.

(And yes, there are cats. Why are you not surprised?)

Nevermore: Grantchester, Blair Mountain, Paris, Pakistan, & Bagdad

Reported by Ambrea

 This week, Nevermore revisited a few familiar titles, including Seven Brief Lessons on Physics by Carlo Rovelli and What If? by Randall Munroe, but readers also displayed some new books that took them traveling from Britain to Budapest, from the rivers of Paris to the mountains of West Virginia.  We started with a second visit to a familiar police procedural:  The Man Who Went Up in Smoke by Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö, in which Investigator Martin Beck sets off to Budapest in search of missing journalist Alf Matsson. Although one reader enjoyed reading her copy of Sjöwall and Wahlöö’s novel, our second reader wasn’t nearly as thrilled with the offering.  “It was terrible,” she said, offering an honest review of it.  Despite finishing The Man Who Went Up in Smoke, she admitted she was bored for much of the novel and decided, at the end, she just couldn’t find anything to like about it.

Next, our readers looked at The Little Paris Bookshop by Nina George.  Monsier Perdu is a literary apothecary, a procurer of books and dispenser of novels on his floating bookshop barge—and he always has the right book for just the right person.  His intuitive prescriptions of books help heal broken hearts and mend emotional wounds.  But when Perdu suddenly comes across a letter from the once-great love of his life, he sets sail for the south of France to bring closure to his own story.  Already a favorite with our library staff, The Little Paris Bookshop received rave reviews at Nevermore.  Our reader thought it would be a cutesy, sweet sort of book, but he said it turned out to be a great novel with incredible emotional impact.  “[It] surprised me the power of this book,” he told his fellow Nevermore members.  Even the subplots had substance, he noted, and the characters were excellent.

Nevermore also took a look at Sidney Chambers and the Shadow of Death by James Runcie.  Noted as a cross between Agatha Christie’s mysteries and G.K. Chesterton’s beloved Father Brown—and inspiration for the hit television show, Grantchester—Sidney Chambers and the Shadow of Death is an intriguing mystery set in Grantchester, England, in 1953 during the coronation year of Queen Elizabeth II.  Sidney Chambers, vicar of Granchester and honorary canon of Ely Cathedral, is drawn into a series of unexpected mysteries and, together with his friend—and Cambridge inspector—Geordie Keating, he finds himself set up as an unconventional clerical detective.  Our reader enjoyed Runcie’s first novel in his Grantchester Mysteries series, saying it was very well-written and incredibly interesting.  Although she said the narrative of the plot was a little bit slow, she said the novel was very good, overall.

Shifting gears, our Nevemore readers looked at a classic memoir of India during World War II with Home to India by Santha Rama Rau.  A teenaged girl who had spent much of her life and education abroad in London, Rau returned to India in the thick of the Second World War when their father, a diplomat, was stationed in South Africa.  Simultaneously moving and heart-wrenching, Home to India is one girl’s incredible account of trying to reconnect with her native country and her gradual involvement in the complex, nuanced world of Indian politics and art.  Our reader borrowed Rau’s memoir from her fellow Nevermore reader, who highly recommended it, and said it’s an incredibly interesting piece of work.  “What I know about India comes from PBS,” she admitted, so Home to India was an insightful and enlightening memoir that corrected her misconceptions and introduced her to a new side of Indian culture, art, education, and politics.

Like the memoir of Santha Rama Rau, A Different Kind of Daughter by Maria Toorpakai is a moving account of one young woman’s attempts to make a place for herself in the world and craft her own identity.  In A Different Kind of Daughter, Toorpakai recounts her harrowing journey from the violent alleys of Peshawar, a frontier city in north Pakistan, to the international spotlight as an advocate for oppressed women and an internationally renowned squash player.  Toorpakai spent much of her childhood disguised as a boy, learning how to fight on the streets of Peshawar, before finally channeling her considerable talent and determination into athletics—and, finally, squash.  Our Nevermore reader absolutely loved Toorpakai’s memoir.  She said she learned so much about Pakistan, about its history and its turbulent political climate; however, she also learned a great deal about Toorpakai and her fight to compete in the sport she loved.  It’s a moving account of liberation and dogged determination, but it’s also a well-written narrative that delves deep into the social and political issues of the modern world.

Last, Nevemore looked at The Devil is Here in These Hills:  West Virginia’s Coal Miners and Their Battle for Freedom by James Green.  West Virginia is at the heart of the coal country, a state wracked by divisive and deadly altercations between labor unions and the powerful corporations which mined there.  In The Devil is Here in These Hills, Green recounts some of the most harrowing events in West Virginia’s history and introduces readers to some of the most prolific characters in the fight for unionization and civil rights of coal miners.  Our reader was incredibly pleased with Green’s book.  Wonderfully written and highly detailed, it offers insight into the formation of the coal mining industry from the sudden push into the wilderness in search of coal and the formation of constricting company towns during the 1870s to the violent skirmishes at Blair Mountain.  Our reader was especially interested in the Battle of Blair Mountain.  Distinguished as the largest labor uprising in the history of the United States, the Battle of Blair Mountain was the first and only time the U.S. Army dropped bombs on American soil—and American citizens.  He was fascinated to learn so much about events that had such an impact locally on the region and abroad.

My Soul to Keep by Tananarive Due

Reviewed by Ambrea

Jessica is a journalist.  Ambitious and bright, she’s poised on the edge of a story that will make her career—and she couldn’t be happier.  She’s married to a wonderful man named David, she has a beautiful and vibrant little girl, and she has a job she loves.  Life is perfect, until a sudden tragedy leaves her reeling and reconsidering her work as a journalist.  As she puts the pieces of her life back together, she discovers small clues behind the story she’s investigating and the deaths that have shaken her foundation—and she’s about to learn that her perfect life is a perfect lie.

Dawit  (David) is an immortal.  His thirst for knowledge has led him astray, causing him to stay in the mortal world and, worse, fall in love.  He’s drawn to Jessica and her daughter.  He loves them, more than he can say, and he’s desperate to keep them in his life, but, as his desperation leads him to commit greater atrocities, Dawit—and Jessica—will pay a terrible price for his missteps and his deadly desire to keep his wife and daughter in his life forever.

Tananarive Due creates a fascinating and enticing novel in My Soul to Keep.  She pulls from religion and myth, drawing from a myriad of cultures and countries and continents, extracting the most fascinating bits of history to create an intricately women story of loss and love, life and death and immortality—and all of its terrible implications.  My Soul to Keep is beautifully rendered, crafting an exquisite story that’s one part tragedy and one part family epic that tosses together a number of intriguing, wonderful characters (immortal and otherwise) into a tangled web.

Let me say first, I loved this story.  I stumbled across it purely by accident when I was scrolling through the audiobooks on my local library website and, when I realized it was perfect for my Read Harder Challenge, I jumped at the chance to read it.  Not only was I impressed by the depth of the novel, which explores the human heart and the effects of immortality on mankind, I fell in love with the history Due included in her novel.

My Soul to Keep delves into a particularly dark part of American history, setting a portion of the novel in Louisiana shortly before the Civil War.  She confronts the reality of slavery, the violence and loss that so many people faced on a daily basis, and she does a spectacular job of illustrating what someone like Dawit—who carries a mighty secret—might have experienced during those tumultuous and terrible times.

Due also draws upon many different parts of history:  Chicago during the Jazz Age, Miami in the bustling modern world, Spain during the Inquisition, and even Ethiopia from Dawit’s childhood, more than four hundred years before the story begins.  She weaves together an enchanting, sometimes terrifying and tragic tale, that encapsulates a variety of human experience—a tapestry of history that reflects the beliefs, culture, and language of each and every age she visits in her novel.  My Soul to Keep is absolutely stunning in regards to the depth of historical detail it provides.

However, I really enjoyed the story, too.  It has a complexity that’s thrilling, an undercurrent of suspense and menace that leaves the reader on the edge of their seat as they uncover Dawit’s history and watch his story unfold.  Although it sometimes appears to develop slowly—that is, it took a little longer than I expected for me to personally put together some of the pieces—I was pleased with how the narrative evolved, how Jessica and Dawit’s relationship changed when some of his secrets come to life, Dawit’s actions in trying to protect his family and his flashbacks to his not-so-immediate past.  Their story is compelling and rich and magical and, ultimately, tragic.  Although I would often have to pause the tape and take a minute to process what happened (my heart was breaking for them as I realized their lives were taking a turn for the worse), I was riveted from the first chapter.

Since I listened to Due’s novel as an audiobook, I have to say I was particularly pleased with the narration.  Peter Francis James does a stellar job of reading My Soul to Keep, melding flawless narration with an exceptional story.  His voice brought life to the characters, gave them a singularly unique voice and an emotional impact that left me nearly breathless at the end of each chapter.  His voice added a layer of richness and emotion that I appreciated from the very beginning.

Overall, I absolutely loved My Soul to Keep.  It’s a great book all around, and it’s probably one of my favorites for the year.  At just over eighteen hours, My Soul to Keep is a bit lengthy for my usual tastes, but I enjoyed it, nonetheless, and I certainly wouldn’t let the time present an obstacle.  Due’s novel is worth reading or hearing, and I highly recommend it.

Gilead by Marilynne Robinson

Reviewed by Ambrea

In the opening of Gilead by Marilynne Robinson, readers are introduced to Reverend John Ames.  A Congregationalist minster, Ames has spent his entire life in Gilead, like his father before him, and he knows he will die there.  He picks up pen and paper with the intention of writing a letter for his young son, but his short, poignant letter quickly turns into a memoir that shares Ames’s life experiences and his family history.  He recalls memories from his childhood, experiences from his clerical life, his short marriage to his first wife and his marriage to Lila, his remarkable second wife, and all the tragedies and triumphs he has faced in a very long lifetime.  In his writing, John Ames seeks to connect to his son, who he knows will have only distant memories of his father, and reconcile himself with his growing age, his failing health, and his wavering faith.

Despite his designation as a member of the clergy, Ames is a flawed individual.  In his candid entries, which span generations of family history, he reveals he has instances of jealousy and distrust, moments of frustration with his congregation, fits of passion (especially around young Jack Boughton, whom he treated as a son), and unmistakable encounters with his own doubts about God, much to his chagrin.  James Ames is not a perfect man, but he is a good man—and I think that’s exactly what makes him so intriguing and what makes Gilead such a compelling novel to read.

An English professor once pointed out that truly good men sometimes seem to come few and far between in literature.  As a man who has enjoyed his life, simple as it may be, Ames makes an interesting study into the life of an “average Joe” and a clergyman, who is attempting to balance his faith and his human passions.  His faith, his candor, his goodness, and his willingness to admit his own faults make him a truly unique character in a world where sin often makes the story.  His story is a beautiful, poignant epic that appreciates the complexities of the human condition and offers insight into a life well-lived.

Marilynne Robinson, I noticed, made some unique stylistic decisions in writing her novel.  For one thing, she doesn’t designate separate chapters in Gilead.  Aside from the occasional division between individual anecdotes, Robinson essentially leaves Ames to his own devices in a semi-stream of consciousness journal.  While this provides the novel with the illusion of being a legitimate diary, giving it that quality of intimacy it might not have had otherwise, I found it could sometimes leave me searching for a break between pages so I could put the book aside for a few minutes.  Although I would sometimes long for a short breather, I found I liked the feeling that I was privy to John Ames’ most private thoughts.

I also enjoyed the realism of John Ames’s character.  His regrets, his personal sorrows, and his feelings of guilt frequently permeate Gilead; however, he is a man who also illustrates the simple joys of living.  Although he writes in anticipation of his death, which he suspects can come at any time, I got the distinct impression that Ames was gradually finding peace in the world and coming to terms with his flagging faith, his fears of losing his son’s affections to another man, and his failing health.  In that respect, I found Robinson’s novel to be quite beautiful despite its fatalistic undertones, because I began to treasure Ames for his flawed human nature and his ephemeral qualities.

Overall, I loved reading Gilead.  It’s a beautiful piece of work that’s lovingly created, full of characters I understand—characters I can relate to—and stories that feel so vibrant, so real, that I was hard pressed not to lose myself in them.