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A review by ncrabb
The Garden of Letters by Alyson Richman
4.0
I've vowed often in recent months that World War II-era love stories need to be more rarely read in my life. But I'm usually quite capable of breaking that vow, and I'm thrilled I broke it with this book. If you limit yourself to one World War II-era romance a year, and if you've not yet met your quota, this could well be your book.
As the book opens, we depart a boat at an Italian port. In our sights is a lovely young woman with a bag over her shoulder looking terrified. Just as she is about to be harassed by German officers, a local man, the village doctor, steps forward, proclaims her to be his cousin, and essentially bypasses the officer who would have assailed her.
This, then, is the remarkable story of a gentle doctor who had lost all and a young woman who, despite her horrific losses, never completely lost the supernal music that danced in her head.
Elodie, before leaving Verona, had been involved in the resistance movement. (How she got involved is one of the reasons you'll want to read this.) Her talent as a musician means she can pass coded messages to members of the resistance through her music. She finds love with a young man who owns a bookstore in Verona who uses his books as a means of passing information to the resistance, and she ultimately carries his child.
But this is a story steeped in loss and sorrow and yet awash in second chances and a kind of redemption of soul that quietly reminds us all that gifts like love and music and a love of books can triumph over the worst war-saturated darknesses.
There is a kind of lyrical poetic sensual beauty in the writing of this book. And if you truly want it to have the greatest impact it can have, you need to listen to the audio edition. The narrator moves through this with the same artistic loveliness with which you would imagine the fictional Elodie playing her cello. Her narration breathes a kind of lythe beauty into Elodie that I suspect even the print book cannot completely match.
The book is at once wistful, haunting and hopeful. Richman's language and her ability to use it to craft these characters is nothing short of exquisite.
As the book opens, we depart a boat at an Italian port. In our sights is a lovely young woman with a bag over her shoulder looking terrified. Just as she is about to be harassed by German officers, a local man, the village doctor, steps forward, proclaims her to be his cousin, and essentially bypasses the officer who would have assailed her.
This, then, is the remarkable story of a gentle doctor who had lost all and a young woman who, despite her horrific losses, never completely lost the supernal music that danced in her head.
Elodie, before leaving Verona, had been involved in the resistance movement. (How she got involved is one of the reasons you'll want to read this.) Her talent as a musician means she can pass coded messages to members of the resistance through her music. She finds love with a young man who owns a bookstore in Verona who uses his books as a means of passing information to the resistance, and she ultimately carries his child.
But this is a story steeped in loss and sorrow and yet awash in second chances and a kind of redemption of soul that quietly reminds us all that gifts like love and music and a love of books can triumph over the worst war-saturated darknesses.
There is a kind of lyrical poetic sensual beauty in the writing of this book. And if you truly want it to have the greatest impact it can have, you need to listen to the audio edition. The narrator moves through this with the same artistic loveliness with which you would imagine the fictional Elodie playing her cello. Her narration breathes a kind of lythe beauty into Elodie that I suspect even the print book cannot completely match.
The book is at once wistful, haunting and hopeful. Richman's language and her ability to use it to craft these characters is nothing short of exquisite.