Do you have a novel that is inextricably linked to a time and place in life where even just the thought of it, siphons up emotions across time? SufferDo you have a novel that is inextricably linked to a time and place in life where even just the thought of it, siphons up emotions across time? Suffering from a fevered state, the narrator in Ia Genberg’s The Details experiences such a voyage down memory lane on the wings of literature and observes that ‘some books stay in your bones long after their titles and details have slipped from memory.’ This striking and succinct Swedish novella was awarded he August Prize for fiction in 2022 and was shortlisted for the 2024 International Booker in its impressive English translation from Kira Josefsson. A story sure to stir the souls of those with a profound fondness for the written word for its examination of the connections we form with books and with whom we read them, The Details is also a deeply soul-searching investigation on the ways the self is shaped by those around us. The way we ‘let them become part of me’ becomes the thread the narrator untangles across this non-linear novella. With acute observations and majestic prose, Genberg’s The Details is a moving look at the way we carry the past with us and ‘that in some sense no relationship ever ends.’
‘In one way life begins anew each day and every second but is also true I keep returning to the same places in myself.’
I cannot help but swoon at the way Genberg’s examination of the self is informed by the novels one has read. In bed with a vague illness, the narrator reaches for an old copy of Paul Auster’s The New York Trilogy only to find herself pulled back two decades previous down the halls of memory by an inscription from her then-girlfriend, Johanna, who gifted her the book during a similar state of illness. Her fever burns across the pages in the intensity of the prose and the feverish fashion in which the story avoids linearity as ‘time folds in on itself’, not progressing along a chronological plot but instead circling the timeline as ideas leap into others.
‘As far as the dead are concerned, chronology has no import and all that matters are the details, the degree of density, this how and what and everything to do with who.’
It presents a wider scope of the narrator’s “self” with all the different pasts and present spiraling together. But it also becomes a method to juxtapose the people she knew with the ways the their fingerprints on her life present themselves later. ‘That's all there is to the self, or the so-called 'self': traces of the people we rub up against,’ she observes and this is, essentially, the core lesson of the The Details: that we are made of, quite literally, of small details.
‘That’s where this sharper sense of being alive is found, in the alert gaze on another.’
Books are an important part of the relationships examined in The Details. ‘Literature was our favorite game,’ she thinks about her time with Johanna, ‘hermetic but nimble, both simple and twisted, at once paranoid and crystalline, and with an open sky between every word.’ Later, a battered copy of Birgitta Trotzig’s Dykungens dotter is all that remains after her roommate Niki vanishes from her life. Books, like relationships, are an ephemeral affair, but highly significant.
‘the ownership of books was distinct from other types of ownership, more like a loan that might run out or be transferred onto someone else at the drop of a hat.’
I enjoy how Genberg has books serving as monuments to moments that would be lost to time if books weren’t also a portal of memory and emotional resonance.
The story moves through four key figures in her life. There is the aforementioned ex-girlfriend, who she will later feel a sense of betrayal from when during an interview she claims to have never liked Paul Auster. Next is Niki, a roommate with an intensity ‘as if the full cast of Greek gods and all the emotions and states they represented had been crammed in behind her eyelids.’ Then there is the relationship with Alejandro that strikes and leaves like a storm.
‘our relationship was the length of a breath and yet he stayed with me, as if there was something in me that bent around him, a new paradigm for all my future verbs.’
The push and pull between temporality and legacy creates an excellent emotional tension, particularly as the juxtaposition of Alejandro’s brevity in the text with the lasting impact from their collision of selves. Finally we come to Birgitte and issues of trust, with Birgitte’s anxieties that are not all that unlike a description of the narrative structure of the novel:
‘to run ahead and touch everything, circle potentialities with the intention of preventing them from happening, on and on and on in a process that never stops.’
Though while the book explores these four characters, what we gain most of is an understanding of the narrator as reflected back in them and through them. It becomes like those fun-house hall of mirrors, where each person is made up of the residue left from each encounter with others and reflecting each other back upon one another until where one ends and the other begins starts to blur.
‘And I suppose that's what's at the heart of it for every person suffering from anxiety; the fact that life, by its very nature, is impossible to manage.’
Not unlike the relationships in the novel, The Detail is brief yet powerful. A wonderful examination of the self and the way we shape and are shaped by those around us as well as a lovely tribute to the power of literature, this is a truly moving and thought provoking work. The love of literature shines brightly here. Oh, and in regards to my opening question, Crime and Punishment, 2666 and The Passion all transport me to the moment of my first read with them. This book also made me realize how much I enjoy the connection with people here on goodreads and the conversations and discussions we share. Thank you to books, thank you for all of you.
‘Books have tremendous power. But take care. It’s the book that holds the power, not you.’
I love books. I suspect you do, too, seeing as you are here ‘Books have tremendous power. But take care. It’s the book that holds the power, not you.’
I love books. I suspect you do, too, seeing as you are here on goodreads reading about books, and I love that for you. ‘Books keep me going,’ admits the shy, young and recently orphaned protagonist in The Cat Who Saved Books, a lovely little novel sure to warm the hearts of bookworms by Sōsuke Natsukawa, and I can confess to the same. And not simply because they are my livelihood, working days in the public library and evenings in a charming, little independent bookstore (I often joke with locals you can’t get a book in this town without going through me), but there have been many times books have quite literally given me the emotional strength to keep going. To keep learning, to keep thinking, to keep believing it’s worth dancing through the absurdity of life and enjoying the beautiful moments. So while the worst I could say about this book is it can be a bit over sentimental and idealistic, it is a sentiment worth getting soppy over and an ideal worth striving for and I spent a few days blissfully exploring the labyrinth along with the characters in their quest to protect the love of books. When teenage Rintaro’s guardian and grandfather passes, he is left alone as proprietor of their second-hand bookstore, something he soon must leave behind to live with a distant aunt. Suddenly Tiger, a magical cat on a mission, appears to whisk Rintaro away on adventures to save books and, in turn, learn he has a strength inside he never knew. Wonderfully translated by Louise Heal Kawai, this is a joy to read and also makes for an excellent reading list with all the nods to older literature, most of which are Western classics. The Cat Who Saved Books is an endlessly charming read, as empowering as it is entertaining while reminding us there are many ways to love reading and that books are worth protecting.
‘Human beings don’t live alone, and a book is a way to show them that.’
This is a breeze of a read, in both the sense that you can be turning pages hardly noticing the passing of time and that it is like an idyllic breeze blowing over your bibliophile being. In many ways I could see this being sort of like The Alchemist but for book-love, with the way it is pretty endlessly quotable along the life-affirming plotline. I was wary going into it for this reason, as I wasn’t big on Alchemist (wrote about it here) but ended up really enjoying this (it was a birthday gift from my 3 year old, who loves the cover with its lovely art by Yuko Shimizu and would grab it off the shelf and carry around every time she came to see me at the bookstore…a place she definitely assumes is just an extension of her own home and I like to cultivate that). It does tip towards idealism, though many of the “opponents” that Rintaro must face in the various labyrinths do confront him with harsh opinions based in reality that he has to overcome. And he also must learn to overcome himself in ways. Described as a hikikomori—which roughly translates to extreme social withdrawal—we experience Rintaro try to become more of a person in the world, aided not only by his adventures with Tiger but the support from Sayo, the class president who has taken it upon herself to give Rintaro a much needed push.
‘Don’t give in to loneliness. You aren’t alone. ’
The charm of the characters really help this book sink in. They are a bit generic at times—the shy bookish boy, the overachiever girl, the athlete with an inflated ego—but they really mesh well and drive the story all the same. Tiger the cat is a delight in all his blunt, no-nonsense ways, though unfortunately he is a bit under utilized. Still, they all makes for a rather pleasing read as they come together to support one another. For Rintaro, we see he must accept ‘books can't live your life for you’ and, like the dreamer in White Nights by Fyodor Dostoevsky, must put himself out into the world to truly live.
‘It’s not true that the more you read, the more you see of the world. No matter how much knowledge you cram into your head, unless you think with your own mind, walk with your own feet, the knowledge you acquire will never be anything more than empty and borrowed.’
Books are an excellent tool, but without experiencing life as well as books, we just become ‘an old encyclopaedia, his head stuffed with out-of-date information,’ wasting away on the shelf of our own lives without the lessons being of use to anyone.
‘A book that sits on a shelf is nothing but a bundle of paper. Unless it is opened, a book possessing great power or an epic story is mere scraps of paper. But a book that has been cherished and loved, filled with human thoughts, has been endowed with a soul.’
Throughout the book, Rintaro must navigate different labyrinths each with their own book-villain minotaur at the center (one can argue there is a larger, overall labyrinth of himself he is also questing through), though we see how in each the person does truly believe they are doing what is right. We have a publisher that only sells cookie-cutter bestsellers, a man who tries to condense every book to a single sentence to save people time, or a man who keeps books locked away as an aesthetic. ‘Your feelings about a book don’t determine its value,’ he is told, such as when the publisher states ‘in our society it is the banknote that is the arbiter of value.’ The difficulty is there is a lot of truth to what they tell him, but Rinato must remember ‘logic and reason are never the best weapons in an irrational world.’ What matters is loving books. Sure, the average book published today sells less than 300 print copies over its lifetime and 64% of the US sales comes from the Big 5 publishers, but to a book lover, does that make a little known, indie published book that truly touched their heart any less of an impact on them? No. And that’s what matters most. Also, as Ursula K. Le Guin said in her National Book Foundation awards speech we need to ‘know the difference between production of a market commodity and the practice of an art.’
There were times this book gets a bit overly precious about books, but the heart is in the right place. Love books the way you love books. Dog ear and underline to your hearts content if that makes you happy despite what the haters say (I personally do it a lot, I think books look all cool and punk and loved that way), make art from your books, keep them in a special place, give them away, collect as many editions of your favorite, have way more than you’ll ever read (or even intend to read), just do you. And there are many ways to enjoy them and I’m not into gatekeeping reading. Don’t let anyone make you feel less of a reader for what you enjoy. Only like graphic novels, GREAT, they are just as valid. Prefer audiobooks? Just as valid as well, listen until your heart is content. Like to read only for easy pleasure? ENJOY! Read only YA books despite being an adult? Dive right in. Only like fantasy? Have a magical time. Only read the classics? Do it up! If a book, any book (that isn’t like…pro genocide or something, I gotta draw a line somewhere) makes you happy, that is what counts. There is some great stuff in here about difficult books though, which the grandfather compares to climbing a mountain:
‘“Reading isn’t only for pleasure or entertainment. Sometimes you need to examine the same lines deeply, read the same sentences over again. Sometimes you sit there, head in hands, only progressing at a painstakingly slow pace. And the result of all this hard work and careful study is that suddenly you’re there and your field of vision expands. It’s like finding a great view at the end of a long climbing trail.’
Which is all very lovely. I’m reminded of Roberto Bolaño writing about wrestling with the great, dense classics ‘when the great masters struggle against that something, that something that terrifies us all, that something that cows us and spurs us on, amid blood and mortal wounds and stench,’ but that its all worth it because ‘reading is pleasure and happiness to be alive or sadness to be alive and above all it's knowledge and questions. (from 2666).
‘What's important is the ability to have empathy for another human being--to be able to feel their pain, to walk alongside them in their suffering.’
Though perhaps the biggest power of books is the way it helps us see outside ourselves, to learn and understand not just about the world but each other. There are many studies showing that reading helps grow empathy, part of the reason it is important to read to children to foster empathy and grow emotional intelligence. ‘I think the power of books is that - that they teach us to care about others,’ Rinato discovered, ‘it's a power that gives people courage and also supports them in turn…Empathy - that's the power of books.’ Which is a beautiful sentiment, one that I’d like to just let sit there and flourish. ‘A cherished book will always have a soul. It will come to its reader’s aid in times of crisis,’ Tiger says, and I like to believe this is true.
‘Even if you try to destroy a book, it doesn’t disappear that easily. Right now, in places all over the world, people have connections to books.’
This is why it is important to protect books. In the US where I am, this is becoming a serious issue with book challenges and bans occurring at rapidly rising rates. In 2022 there were 1,269 challenges against 2,571 different books (I wrote about this extensivelyhere). But we can overcome the hateful (it also reminds us that those wishing to destroy books often truly believe they are doing it for honorable reasons), especially seeing as just 11 people are responsible for 60% of challenges in the US. So protect books, friends. Support your libraries and bookstores. And of course I was going to love a book about a little bookstore that could--I spend all my time in one. I’m writing this from the store right now.
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‘In the same way that music is made up of more than notes, books are more than just words.’
So, bookworms everywhere, if you are ready to dive into a magical adventure about the love of books, The Cat Who Saved Books is for you. While it can be a bit sentimental and cliched at times, it has such a heart and love for the printed word that you can’t help but fall in love with it. A fun and quick read that filled me with joy.
3.75/5
‘Books are filled with human thoughts and feelings. People suffering, people who are sad or happy, laughing with joy. By reading their words and their stories, by experiencing them together, we learn about the hearts and minds of other people besides ourselves. Thanks to books, it’s possible to learn not only about the people around us every day, but people living in totally different worlds.’...more
I find storytelling to be the lifeblood of existence. It is the way we construct meaning from the chaos of our
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Me at all times on Goodreads
I find storytelling to be the lifeblood of existence. It is the way we construct meaning from the chaos of our lives colliding with one other; communicate with others; rationalize decisions; make each other laugh or cry; how we empathize or soothe; how we teach, learn, and dream. I am, shamelessly, a book lover. Considering this platform, I think it’s safe to say we are all book lovers here. Book Love, is a collection of brief comics from Debbie Tung that humorously prod at book lovers to pinpoint the common personality quirks that help define us as such. I say “us” because I felt called out in many of these shorts, and if you are reading this, I suspect you will, too. It is cute, cornball humor that will make you smirk and, while there’s nothing particularly deep or overtly hilarious, it will make book lovers feel understood. While not everything applied to me, a great deal of it did and it got me thinking about my own journey through life with books. I mean, I currently work in both a library and a bookstore and find reviewing books to be nearly as rewarding a pastime as actually reading books. My arms are covered in book references tattooed into my skin (I literally have a purple line drawing of Virginia Woolf’s face staring back at me whenever I look in the mirror). But something I’ve found while reviewing is that you can’t truly capture what a book meant to you without presenting a little bit about yourself in the context of it. The journey through a book is often a journey through yourself, and if you’d like to accompany me, I’d like to look at how this book resonates with my own life as a way of appreciating these comics.
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Me writing way too long of a review as always.
Basically, I love books and I just want everyone to appreciate them in their own way. I work at a library, I just want to give you free books and resources. I want to open doors into trains of thought that you can ride through your mind, or lighthouses of ideas that can guide you in your darkest, stormiest moments. Am I the sort of library book lover that owns an Arthur t-shirt with the saying “having fun isn’t hard when you have a library card”? You bet your ass I am. I give out library cards all day long and sit on a committee that discusses ways to make the library more accessible and inclusive.
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Did I order this in the middle of the night after several drinks? Maybe…
‘A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us,’ wrote Franz Kafka, and I believe in the power of storytelling to hack up the surface so we can dive into the waters of ourselves and society to better understand them through the telling and reading of stories. But reading can fulfill a lot of purposes for people, from entertainment and laughs to academic insight. Some people read to find themselves, some read to find other answers, some read just to escape, and all of these are valid, cool, and subjective (my favorite kind of cool). That was one thing I quickly realized in my first bookstore job at the Holland, Mi Barnes and Noble. I worked there for several years, long enough to be a department lead, have a passcode that could do whatever I wanted, and be trusted with all sorts of important responsibilities without reasonable compensation. It’s a lesson I carry with me into my current bookstore and especially the library. I just want to give you access to books, I don’t care what it is. I will get it for you. Here’s a good look at what reading can be:
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Debbie Tung goes through lots of silly quirks about readers. I loved the bits about pre-ordering a favorite author’s new book without bothering to read what its about, hating movie cover editions, or loving that a book makes you sad. When people ask me for a happy book, I don’t know what to say, do I even read those? Give me your bleak novels, please, I want to hurt and think, and empathize and be horrified. If you say "this book is about how oppressive society is and a mostly plotless deep dive into struggles for agency and a voice amidst surreal social constructs," I say "PERFECT, TAKE MY DAMN MONEY."
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Books have always meant a lot to me. I’ve learned so much about myself through them and found so many good friendships because of them. I can’t not mention my great goodreads friend Mike Puma who, sadly, passed away but we became a friend outside the screen and we used to trade books, meet up for concerts and museums, and even saw the play adaptation of 2666 by Roberto Bolaño—a favorite author I learned of from him. During a rough patch of my life I even started leaving favorite poem quotes on trees everywhere I went, making paintings to accompany them (not my poems, I’ve published a handful but I am probably not a poet). Find me at @poe_a_tree (GET IT!?) on instagram. Needless to say, books have an important place in my life.
So I don’t have a bookstagram (I follow several of yours), but I actually do social media for the bookstore I work at and sit on the library social media committee. So yes, this comic above hit home. Oh and her details of things book lovers all want is super true:
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My bag on right
I love my bag. I love a good shoulder bag and it goes everywhere with me. I mean, I have all the things I might need, I fully endorse shoulder bags. I have too many books in there at all times but you never know which one you will need. Which is why this one is also super relevant:
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I’m heading out on vacation as I type this. Do I have too many books packed? Some might say yes. Will I read them all? Definitely not. Will I buy one more during this trip? Most assuredly. But you have to be prepared!
I can’t discuss book love without shouting out to the people in our lives that make it possible. For me it was always teachers. I’m a classic example of “overeager reader kid who hung out with their English teacher” so much so that I still text with my high school English teacher every day. But shoutout to teachers and librarians for passing on the love. If Dr Robin Lucy from EMU ever see’s this: thank you, you turned my life around and I think of you every time I write. Also Mr O’Dowd in high school who first talked to me like an adult, passed me some Vonnegut, and let me do some pretty bonkers class projects. Thanks for being a real one. Thanks to all you book lovers on here as well.
There are times when this comic dips into what I like to describe as the preciousness of books. You know, like Golum in The Lord of the Rings loving “my precious!” in a way that isn’t healthy to anyone (ie. if you see a book in the library dumpster, don’t panic that we are throwing away books and bring it back in to the desk with indignation…Because that book was tossed for being covered in actual human blood and no I don’t know why. True story.) The digs at e-readers not being real books is eye rolling because, while I don’t own an e-reader, it is still the same important effect just without the aesthetics that have been a bit fetishized (this book being one of those examples of fetishization, but I totally appreciate why people love these aspects of books because I do too). People have many reasons to use e-readers, some of them are accessibility reasons such as being able to enlarge the font. Yes, I collect books and love my personal library that takes up more real estate in my home than is reasonable, but it’s also very meaningful to me. I also read digitally because Hoopla is a great library app and it is free and it’s actually WAY easier to pull quotes for a review since you can open it in your browser window. So I don’t enjoy digging at digital or audio books, which are just as valid a way to ‘read’ as any. Access to books is the most important thing, and this can mean different things to different people. Let’s just all embrace that we enjoy having a story told to us.
I was amused at the comics about not dog-earring or marking up books because I dog-ear and underline ALL DAY. I don’t care. To me, a physical book is just a possession and it’s the content that matters. Besides, I get a ton of use value from underlining and dog-earring because it makes reviewing a whole lot easier and more in depth when I can quote easily. I love looking back at my underlines and remembering what it meant to me during the time I was first reading the book. But I also appreciate people who want to keep their books as pristine as possible, and I would never mark up a borrowed copy (please don’t do this with library books). I also enjoy buying a used book that has underlines and notations though, it's like reading a book with the ghost of the former owner.
So overall this book is cute but also a bit light, more like something that is fun to give as a gift and browse through more than anything. But it is a cute coffee table book for book lovers. I do have to say that there are a lot of jokes that were also done in Sarah Andersen’s comics and I sort of preferred her versions I guess? It is fun though.
I love reading books. I love working in book world. I love going from the library to Reader’s World, the indie bookshop I also work at. I love interacting with both patrons and customers and considering the difference between both access mediums. I love hearing what people enjoy, don’t enjoy, the sort of books they want and I really love the hunt of getting them a copy (I made a “bookstore noir” video about that once, you can watch here: Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3)I love Goodreads and rambling at you all about books I’ve enjoyed. More importantly, I love the comments thread where I can discuss with you all, share jokes, share stories, and share our lives. It’s a wonderful place to be. I am a book lover and proud.
‘They’re saying that you’re about to open a bookshop. That shows you’re ready to chance some unlikely things.’
An idyllic little bookshop stuffed with ‘They’re saying that you’re about to open a bookshop. That shows you’re ready to chance some unlikely things.’
An idyllic little bookshop stuffed with old hardbacks displayed on handcrafted shelves in an aging building--possibly haunted--on a crisp ocean coastline seems to be a common denominator in many bibliophile fantasies. A love of literature often leads to a desire to spread said literature into desiring hands and much is the dream of Florence Green in Penelope Fitzgerald’s 1978 novel The Bookshop. However, a dream is often deferred when it does not align with the desires of the ruling elites and we live in a world where innocence may be glorified yet gored in actuality. So goes Fitzgerald’s outstanding little novel that spits in the face of capitalist society while acknowledging cruel realities. This is a world where gentleness does not equate kindness and ‘Morality is seldom a safe guide for human conduct.’ On the surface it would seem a cozy novel of small town England but there is a mordant melancholy at play observing the way the privileged can trample anyone underfoot if they so desire. Yet, within this slender volume there is a tragic ode to the working-class heroines, the dreamers and those with the courage to grasp their dreams. It also hits a fantastic chord of my own existence that harmonized deep within me. It also has a bold and bittersweet ending that I absolutely loved and wished more authors were daring enough to pull off. Fitzgerald’s The Bookshop is an utterly charming and devastating microcosm of society that casts its keen, observational wit on class privileges and their social and political weaponry, the varying fates of those who interact with the social ladder, and the harsh truths of reaching for a dream in a world primed to grind up dreamers in its gears.
‘A good book is the precious life-blood of a master-spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life, and as such it must surely be a necessary commodity.’
There is such an impressive breadth of scope in this tightly packed little novel. This is largely due to the way Fitzgeralds’s prose is masterfully both economical and hearty at once with such a delicately incisive gaze as to pack her message so tightly and powerfully that every sentence hums with brilliance and insight. It was nominated for the Booker Prize, and rightfully so, though she would not win it until the following year with Offshore. Still, Fitzgerald manages to do in around 150pgs what most do in double the space, crafting a beautifully engrossing surface-read with a stunning depth to be mined in subtle turns of phrase and clever nods that truly embody the meaning of ‘show not tell’. She also makes great use of an objective authorial perspective where many truths and impressions are not apparent until they are reframed through the disheartening disclosures at it’s calamitous conclusion. In short, this is a minor masterpiece and I will never stop thinking about it.
This novel particularly resonated with me as Florence Green’s bookshop also features a lending library which strikes a perfect intersectional bullseye into my own life working in a small, independent bookstore as well as serving in the local library as an aide (huge shoutout to actual librarians, you all are the best [especially you, Annaka, thanks for actually reading these]). The two are very similar but not without dissonance that I sashay through on a daily basis as I often walk from one job directly to the next several days a week (I do the social media for the bookstore, @readersworldholland as well as serve on the social media committee for the library which only compounds the trip down the rabbit hole of dissonance between parallels for me). Basically my entire life is books, and I am happy for it. So when Florence’s lending library faces issues of privacy when unruly patrons begin rummaging through other people’s holds, believe you me I was on the edge of my seat ready to rumble about best practices and the importance of maintaining patron privacy (I was particularly thrilled when the young bookshop employee, Christine--whom my heart goes out to like fireworks over a scenic bay--raps a patron over the knuckles with a ruler for snooping).
There is also the constant barrage of customer questions and complaints that downright tickled me and rang true. For instance, a certain Mr. Thornton is the first on the lending list, but rumored to be a slow reader much to the indignation of waiting patrons who are quick to make their annoyances heard and also the outlandish clamoring for privileged rights to jump line in the holds list that, as a library employee who works specifically with inter-library loan holds and registration, had me in stitches. Not to mention the awkwardness of bookstore life with local authors and artisans insisting on their place amongst your stock or the weird complaints and reasons for returning books. ‘Sometimes the customers don’t like the books when they’ve bought them,’ Florence says, which reminded me of a time when I worked for Barnes and Noble and a customer returned a boxed set of the Percy Jackson series because--and you can’t make this stuff up--it didn’t come with a disclaimed that the Greek god’s were not real, which she said would make her son stop believing in a Christian God (she also told my manager I shouldn’t be working there if this was what I recommended for children—welcome to Holland, Michigan, USA folks!). So thank you, Fitzgerald, this book made me feel seen in my work-life and I love you for it.
But enough about me--my sincerest apologies--and on to the novel. Fitzgerald has created a working-class heroine/martyr with Florence Green, a sort of David vs Goliath of aging dreamer vs the systemic wealthy society in a small English village. Hardborough is ‘an island between sea and river, muttering and drawing into itself as soon as it felt the cold’ where books apparently hadn’t been sold ‘since Dombey and Son was serialized’ (the nod to Charles Dickens’s book also reveals the origin of the character name Florence, who appears as the daughter of Dombey in the work). There is all the small town nostalgia to go around in this deteriorating town, but it also serves as a astute microcosm of English society where the wealthy have ancestry claims, audiences with the House of Lords and other nefarious connections that help them retain their power and do whatever they wish, such as Violet Gamart who serves as a villain of sorts in her quest to banish Florence from the Old House where she has rightfully moved into as workplace and residence. Florence’s opening of the bookshop stirs Mrs Gamart to think the place could have been used as an Arts center, and instead of simply regretting not acting on it during its decade of desolation decides to slowly but surely unseat Florence and claim the space for her own.
Florence, on the other hand, is an unassuming middle-aged woman with a dream and enough money to make it happen as long as the bank is willing to provide a loan. Having been widowed during the War (Fitzgerald frequently takes a sardonic approach to the British military, even boldly approaching outright mockery through the representation of General Gamart as a bumbling fool only fit to follow orders) she now hopes to make her mark on the world with a meager bookstore, since ‘to leave a mark of any kind was exhilarating’.
She was in appearance small, wispy and wiry, somewhat insignificant from the front view, and totally so from the back. She was not much talked about, not even in Hardborough, where everyone could be seen coming over the wide distances and everything seen was discussed.
Florence is a portrait of innocence in this world and a figurehead for the passed-over, something that does not fare well with the machinations of society. But innocence begets innocence, and her supporters include the Sea Scounts--a club of young boys that help her clear her space and set up the store--and the utterly delightful 10 year old Christine Gipping who is the sole bookshop employee for most of the novel. I was charmed by this detail as my own 10 year old daughter enjoys spending an evening a week with me in the bookstore, pouring through novels in the corner and learning how to close down the shop (I also read this novel in its entirety while in the store, which I felt fitting).
Many are quick to call Florence courageous--most notably the mysterious and wealthy Mr Brundish who is not only a foil to Mrs Gamart but also goes to great lengths to defend and support Florence’s enterprise--however ‘her courage, after all, was only a determination to survive.’ Survival is the utmost importance in a world with cruelties such as Mrs Gamart abound, one Florence is beautifully yet naively ignorant of as it is said she has not understood that the world is split between ‘exterminators and exterminatees.’ This is also a patriarchal society, where men of self-appointed impotent importance say things such as ‘but silence means consent’ to get their way, and her abilities are shortchanged simply due to being a woman.
All the more insidious are fellows such as Milo North, who outwardly seem kind and supportive but inwardly are only looking out for themselves. Milo is said to work for the BBC in London (less and less, it would seem) which has fixed him in his smaller pond of a town as seemingly a patron of the arts and someone to be admired. Milo is a social ladder climber, though a lazy one at that, and demonstrates how simply adhering only to self-preservation and choosing the path of least resistance is a more profitable journey than someone who actually works hard for a living. Milo schemes and betrays like a proper Judas, but to his credit warns Florence the whole way that her trust in others may be her undoing. The climbers are rewarded regardless of morality and work ethic, which the dreamers find a wall of systemic gatekeeping blocking their path.
Amusingly, the least worrisome of characters around town is the poltergeist that haunts the Old House. This inclusion is wonderfully charming as it is just an established fact that a ghost—dubbed ‘the rapper’ for their frequent and prolonged pounding sounds—exists and while they make themselves known from time to time it is hardly an intrusion. The true terrors of Hardborough are not a specter in the night but the daylight beasts of privilege and their conviction of deservedness to it.
Fitzgerald pulls no punches in this one, yet the working-class martyrdom is still upheld as the righteous path. Florence comments that customers will return books if ‘they’ve detected a distinct tinge of socialism.’ which offers a glimpse into the political leanings of the novel and perhaps reframes the embarrassment Florence has of wearing a red dress (red scare, folks) to the social gathering of ancestral elites at Mrs Gamart’s impressive home. Florence is not in this for the profit, and when asked by her exasperated bookkeeper if she even cares to understand how profit systems works ‘she guiltily wished she did.’ There is a purity here that wishes to transcend its capitalist society, but Fitzgerald has no interest in sugarcoasting rebellion.
Mrs Gamart has connections, which Brundish warns Florence though she foolishly claims to not be intimidated by it, and the goodwill of innocence will find no quarter in a world of bankers and politicians. Mrs Gamart not only can lodge a barrage of legal complaints, inspectors and even meddling with school records or Christine, to antagonize Florence, most of which come to nothing in the short term but amalgamate to a damning record in the long run. However, she has connections to law-makers who can sneakily ram Bills through such as one giving legal custody of the Old House if she so chooses. ‘I’m talking about an order for compulsory purchase,’ Brundish accuses her, ‘you may call it an eviction. That is a fairer term.’ The sharp criticism of elites and their unbridled power leaps from the pages.
There's something sublte but effective in the way that Gamart's attempt to open an Art Centre comes as a Public Library is also being opened in town. A library would have training for collection development and programming, whereas Ms Gamart's--a traditional value wealthy elite with the weight of government behind her--would be strictly her control over what she feels the community should and should not have as art.
‘It was defeat, but defeat is less unwelcome when you are tired.’
While the ending may leave a bitter taste in some mouths--I dare say it is intended to--I personally loved it and wish for more books to have the courage to do so. Failure is a theme I really respect, even if it recalls walking across my university campus one last time at the age of 20, listening to Dylan's One Too Many Mornings stifling tears with a cigarette swallowing that I had just been dismissed and failed out of our Literature program. It’s how life is, and rosy endings make for a docile society that thinks mere courage, morality and being ‘the good side’ can defeat a system hellbent on retaining power and decimating any opposition which it has endless and vast means to mobilize in order to do so. This gives you the teeth you need, and the true courage to stand tall even in the face of defeat.
This is a bloodless yet nonetheless tragic martyr story meant to radicalize you to stand up for the dreamers and underdogs who want to believe morality and good-naturedness can be enough to succeed. Fitzgerald is watering the garden and here we are nearly 40 years later still needing her message because failure is not the end all and should not deter us, only embolden us to continue on the scaffolding of the fallen. Innocence may falter and is likely a kiss of death, which is tragic but only if we allow it to be. This is such a lovely ode to literature as well, and Lolita and its subversive powers figures prominently in the plot. Often for hilarious purposes. I love this book, plain and simple. It is brief but powerful and so eloquently written, and Fitzgerald has crafted a minor masterpiece.
5/5
‘Courage and endurance are useless if they are never tested.’...more
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