Read: The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

One of the loveliest things about being sick (well, perhaps the only lovely thing about it) is the freedom to laze about on the couch for an afternoon, even though there are still dishes in the sink and the floor could use a good sweeping.

I started Guernsey a few weeks ago when Suzi lent it to me, and have been trying to get it read up (because I'm really supposed to be reading The Zookeeper's Wife for book club). But I couldn't move on to another book without first resolving that the characters on Guernsey would end up as I thought they should, so I've been plugging away at it, stealing a few pages here and there, until finally this afternoon I collapsed sniffling on the sofa and breezed through the last thirty pages.

Steve mentioned that he and I read differently. I thought that was fascinating, because honestly I'd never thought of that before. Who wouldn't read for what I read for? Steve reads for entertainment, sometimes a quick thrill via a mystery or a nice thought-provoking dramatic piece, occasionally something classic and humorous. I read, I think, for a lot of different reasons. To connect, and to be uplifted sometimes. To learn about far off places. To discover whether there are kindred spirits out there who I might never meet. Occasionally just for fun, I skim through a beach read. But my books, and the characters in them, become dear to me, like friends. There are several that I have read many times over. And I've always felt bad for people who only read a book once.

Guernsey satisfied the majority of my reading requirements, with charming, delightful characters and a plot that unfolded at just the perfect pace. It was like taking a walk while in deep conversation, the time passing by without your meaning it to. I loved learning about a tiny Channel Island, and coming to grips with what the German Occupation really meant in Europe. I think our continent being so far removed from the reality of the War has meant that even generations later we don't fully understand the heartbreak. I like to connect on that level, like maybe in some small way, I understand better than I did before. We are so lucky: no food stamps, no rations, no need to stay up all night to protect vegetable gardens from foragers, no threat of prison ever present.

Hope, youth, and light glowed through the pages--despite it's sometimes aching subject matter--and there was enough wit and humor to pull me through the more emotionally difficult passages. I appreciated that. No one wants to cry through a book, and this was more about life going on than about how it stops.

As a writer, I loved following Juliet's thought process through conceiving and writing her book. The only thing that frustrated me occasionally was the limited scope of being confined to letters as my only means of knowing the characters. Still, I think the authoresses did a nice job incorporating dialog and scenes.

In short, it was a charming initiation into the island lifestyle in post-war England, and I loved it.

If you liked this, try: 84, Charring Cross Road (click)