Sarah Winman

Elly and her brother Joe are slightly isolated children: Elly is a loner, and Joe is gay. Elly however has Jenny Penny, and Joe has Charlie. Both lose and then find again these seminally important friends. This is a novel about family, about loss, about violent tragedy and even sexual violence. God is Joe's gift to Elly: a pet rabbit who alleviates her loneliness and becomes her confidante.

In the end, family and a few close friends learn to rely on each other to help them through their final, major crisis, and work through the shadows from their past. A sometimes dark and often poignant and witty book, you'll have it demolished in a couple of sittings.… (mais)

A charming, uplifting book, about the power of loving friendships and community. It begins in Tuscany in WWII with a young English soldier, Ulysses Temper, and an art historian, Evelyn Skinner, intent on rescuing paintings from the rubble. On to a pub in the East End, the scene of Ulysses' home coming, and the disparate community there, including Peg, his wife. They divorce, but are bound in so many ways forever. An unexpected legacy takes Ulysses back to Tuscany, to live in Florence, where, little by little, his London friends and relations fetch up too. Over the three decades in which this novel takes place, these individuals and his new friends in Florence all live and work together as some large extended family. Florence - not tourist Florence, but a living working vibrant community - is star of the show, and since I lived there too for a year, not long after the 1966 floods which feature in the book, I took this story to my heart. Joy, colour, loyalty, the enduring power of real friendship to overcome life's inevitable difficulties and sorrows - all these are here. And perhaps in the end it's all wrapped up a little too tidily, too happily. But if you want to Feel Good in Time of Covid, this is the book you need.… (mais)

A dear friend Kate tentatively lent me Still Life. It's been sitting on my shelf for a few months as I’d put it down after a few pages because it was not the right time. When is the right time?

This time (the right time) I found myself flooded-in (due to heavy rain) and ready for Sarah Winman to take me wherever she wanted. In part, this was because in the 1980s we'd been caretakers of a converted 9th century monastery in Tuscany and knew Florence and many of the towns around it, not quite as intimately as Sarah Winman but well enough to enjoy revisiting these haunts. Of course, the flood section resonated. In part also, she has a feel for dialogue, character and literary cross-references (Forster Violet Trefusis etc). Somehow, Claude the talking parrot took me back to Enid Blighton's Adventure series not to mention all the food and wine. By the time Arturo’s will appeared, I found myself looking back to the right side of the page where I remembered Evelyn’s mention of the Cockney landlady. It was page 7 and I was hooked. Isn’t it interesting how we can recall the physical position of texts if not the page?

As this story of love and loss and life unfolded,

Passing time. But still life in all its beauty and complexity. p. 435

I was moved to tears more often than I'll record in this little reflection. Half-way through the book, it felt that everyone had lost something that completed them - just as the amazing Claude spontaneously lost feathers. There were several times I had to put the book down for tears.

In many respects the book ended and losses were resolved about 100 pages before the set piece All About Evelyn. I'm not complaining at all. The homage to A Room with a View seemed entirely appropriate to a book about the English in Florence.
This is a richly layered book in which the author reminds us of her presence and I liked her presence

If only they'd known that 600 metres away underground, Jem Gunnerslake was passing books to a young woman who was once called kid but was now called Alys. But these revelations would have to wait. For now, an air of contentment hung over the scene. p. 325

… (mais)