My mom lent me The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society after she read it in a book club and enjoyed it. Though I'm not usually one for books with cutesy titles (I've avoided the series "The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency" largely because of the name), it was brief and promised to be light, and that's really what I needed in the weekend at home after a full Christmas.
As an initial matter, the authorship of this novel confuses me. Ostensibly, Barrows took over the manuscript after Shaffer couldn't complete it because of health issues; whether Shaffer eventually passed away from her health problems is hinted at but unclear. What's even more unclear is what role each woman had in shaping the manuscript, and so it's difficult to think of this book as the work of an author. Given its subject matter and style, I'm more inclined to think of it as the joint product of a publishing company, editor, and multiple authors. The thought that a book was written in conference diminishes somewhat the joy of experiencing it (at least to me); in this case, it also explains many of the novel's missteps.
Guernsey (I will dispense with the unwieldy title) is a novel in letters, which largely revolve around the central character Juliet Ashton, a newly minted best-selling British author living in 1946 England - less than a year after WWII had ended. The correspondence jumps between Juliet and a host of friends and relatives: her editor, sister-in-law, suitor(s), and other chums. A bulk of the correspondence, however, is devoted to a new acquiantance, Dawsey Adams, a farmer on the channel island of Guernsey, and with his fellow islanders, who describe to Juliet the trials they suffered under the German occupation of their island and the "literary society" (of sorts) they formed in response.
Of course the novel isn't really about this literary society, which is simply a means by which Juliet enters into the friendship of these island people; instead, it's about Juliet's slow mid-life, post-war re-awakening, and about the friendships that sustain us through difficult times.
Treacly subject matter, to be sure. Fortunately, the authors have imbued the characters (seen only in their letters) with distinct personalities and styles, and being essentially "small-town folk," most of the characters are quaintly colorful. The writing is lively and polished, and the novel moves seamlessly, easily through the progression of letters. It's quick and easy to read, and the characters are easy to love.
The novel is hampered partially by its structure. Story-in-letters is a useful technique, but I'm not sure it's enough to sustain a novel without suspending some serious disbelief. Obviously, the authors realized that developing back story and character within the context of letters was a tricky task, and they handle it as best as they are able - this essential information is inserted organically enough, as long as you ignore the fact that even the newsy letters of old rarely contained the level of detail and forthcoming that exist in Guernsey's letters. Additionally, the characters are so engaging that after a while you really wish to break free from the letters and see the characters actually doing something. The distinctions between letters and narrative are subtle, but there is always the sense that you are reading letters, and the immersion capable with a traditional third (or first) person narrative is impossible to sustain.
It's a sweet novel, and a delight, but it's little else. Tragedies are alluded to and drama is skirted with, but the novel insists on staying firmly inside beams of sunshine. There is a darkness in many of the characters, and there is definite tragedy in the very recent events of World War II, and I often found myself wishing that the authors had been more intent upon showing some of that darkness. At the same time, however, I can't shake the feeling that this book was manufactured specifically for the book-club set, and that grappling with darkness just wasn't the point.
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