The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

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

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

I finally read it. It seems everyone’s been raving about it for a few years. Verdict: good. I knew it had to be with all that raving. The whole book is told in letter format which takes a little bit of effort at first, but then you get lost in the voice and the story, and the letter format won’t bother you at all. Speaking of the voice—I liked it. Somehow the book reminds me a bit of The Help. The voices aren't the same at all—but I suppose both books are funny and have a strong sense of voice.



I also liked learning some historical facts about WWII. I do have to say that some parts of the book are serious because of the WWII content. However, I would still call it a light-hearted “easy read.”

Though I liked the voice and sense of history, I think my favorite aspect of the book was the motif of the significance of literature. I loved hearing what the different characters said about the books they loved and what the literary society meant to them. Some lovely stuff here, folks.



I do have one objection, however. I didn’t like the end as well as the beginning. Somehow at the end the book sort of shifted tone a bit. I think this is related to the dual authorship. After the manuscript was sold, Shaffer’s cancer caused her to hand over the project to her niece. Sources say the niece finished the book. I don’t know if this means she literally wrote the end or if she just did substantive edits, but I suspect she really did write the end because she is listed as a coauthor. Also I noticed the shift in tone before I even knew the book was co-authored. The niece, Annie Borrows, is a published children's author which I think may be why I didn’t like the tone shift. The end of the book became…a bit cheesy. The end felt more like a romance novel than what the book started out as. The element of romance was always there subtly, but it was just handled differently somehow in the end.





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Crossing to Safety

Crossing to Safety by Wallace Stegner

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


Once upon a time (January of 2009) I needed a book, and I solicited a request from some literary friends. Here was my request:



“I need a book that I can really sink my teeth into. I don't want a cold, overly-intellectualized book. (No reading War and Peace just to say I have. None of that garbage.) I want something that tantalizes and draws me in. I'm already reading at least three books that aren't very gripping. Now, do not misunderstand. I don't want a drivel novel—the equivalent of orange soda and disco lights. Nothing flashy and trashy. I need a book like sunlight on a summer's morning—wholesome as milk or a cozy fire. Something where I feel like the characters are my friends—and I end up knowing them just as well. Something that lingers with me as I go about my day...like Joshua Bell on the violin. Something with philosophical undertones. Something with meaning and richness. I want to drink down the words, savoring their weight and texture—words that are not just a meaning to an end, but art.”



A book that was recommended to me in response was Wallace Stegner’s Crossing to Safety, and let me testify that it does indeed meet my criteria. Take for example this quote from the novel:



"How do you make a book that anyone will read out of lives as quiet as these? Where are the things that novelists seize upon and readers expect? Where is the high life, the conspicuous waste, the violence, the kinky sex, the death wish? Where are the suburban infidelities, the promiscuities, the convulsive divorces, the alcohol, the drugs, the lost weekends? Where are the hatreds, the political ambitions, the lust for power? Where are speed, noise, ugliness, everything that makes us who we are and makes us recognize ourselves in fiction?"



Clearly this is not flashy and trashy orange soda fiction because Stegner did make his novel out of those quiet lives. This is fiction of clarity and light. And certainly the words themselves are something to be savored. Stegner’s mastery of the language is delightful. And I wholly felt the characters were real people whom I knew well. And the book has unmistakable philosophical undertones dealing with art, friendship, marriage, and death. In every way this novel has met and exceeded my criteria. Read it. Read it now instead of waiting for two years like I did.





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