“ I wonder how the book got to Guernsey? Perhaps there is some sort of secret homing instinct in books that brings them to their perfect readers.” January 1946: London is emerging from the shadow of the Second World War, and writer Juliet Ashton is looking for her next book subject. Who could imagine that she would find it in a letter from a man she’s never met, a native of the island of Guernsey, who has come across her name written inside a book by Charles Lamb….
Written with warmth and humor as a series of letters, this novel is a celebration of the written word in all its guises, and of finding connection in the most surprising ways.
“…as his writings have made me his friend.” Dawsey Adams concerning the author Charles Lamb.
“He’s got that way of believing his opinion is the truth, but he’s not disagreeable about it. He’s too sure he is right to bother being disagreeable.”
“‘Is it so small a thing to have enjoyed the sun, to have lived light in the spring, to have loved, to have thought, to have done, to have advanced true friends?’ It isn’t. I hope, wherever she is, she has that in her mind.”
“I suppose I do have a suitor, but I’m not really used to him yet. He’s terribly charming and he plies me with delicious meals, but I sometimes think I prefer suitors in books rather than right in front of me.”
“Excuse my unburdening myself. My worries travel about my head on their well-worn path, and it is a relief to put them on paper.”
“I argue myself all the way to one end of the question and back again several times a day.”