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 could find it in a letter from a man she'd never met, a native of Guernsey, the British island once occupied by the Nazis. He'd come across her name on the flyleaf of a secondhand volume by Charles Lamb. Perhaps she could tell him where he might find more books by this author.
As Juliet and her new correspondent exchange letters, she is drawn into the world of this man and his friends, all members of the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, a unique book club formed in a unique, spur-of-the-moment way: as an alibi to protect its members from arrest by the Germans.
Juliet begins a remarkable correspondence with the Society's charming, deeply human members, from pig farmers to phrenologists, literature lovers all. Through their letters she learns about their island, their taste in books, and the powerful, transformative impact the German occupation has had on their lives. Captivated by their stories, she sets sail for Guernsey, and what she finds there will change her forever.
Any book about people who love to read, will generally be well accepted by, well, people who love to read. This is no exception. The story is gently told through letters, which is probably the only way such a book could have been told. The story is really a story within a story - Juliet is a writer (of articles and books, in addition to her letters) who discovers an veritable wealth of material of the German occupation of Guernsey. In both the GL&PPPS as well as the fictional book Juliet is writing, the heart of the anecdotes is a vibrant young woman named Elizabeth McKenna. It's true that in the fictional book (as well as the fiction book) without this character, the story would have just a jumbled collection of stories. As it is, those few stories told to Juliet about the occupation before the book really gets momentum feel oddly forced, a little bit unasked-for or unprompted. Once the book picks up speed, the stories feel more natural, but then falls into a second trap - Elizabeth McKenna is such a paragon that the two authors have to work very hard in order to make her more human. There is a conversation in which the other characters speculate on the difficulties that she must have gone through, but in all the tales of her, we see her only at her most noble, without despair or doubt. It's only a slight misstep, but it does somewhat divorce the reader from feeling more empathy or sympathy. In fact, the incident that struck me most keenly was one involving Remy, a concentration camp survivor, who comes face to face with some terrible memories, and I doubt very much that the authors intended Remy to be their most compelling character (though perhaps they did - if so, they certainly succeeded).
The rest of the characters suffer from the same disease that the mythical Elizabeth does: too much goodness. Since we're granted a closer look at their foibles than Elizabeth's though, they come off the better. There is nothing subtle about the book, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. Every plot point is telegraphed well in advance, which certainly makes reading the book a very cozy experience. Despite the horrific stories related in the book (and I have no doubt that each incident was real, for someone - I read somewhere that this is the result of years of research, in which case the authors must have had strong stomachs) there is really nothing awful hiding around a corner, no unexpected tragedies or awful misfortunes. The tone suits the material of the book - without such a light touch, the reader could easily be bogged down in the misery of the past.
The GL&PPPS definitely succeeded in at least one area: it makes you want to know more about the German occupation. The mishmash of stories doesn't really satisfy the mind (though their briefness does preserve the heart) and at the end I was left with an aching curiosity about the real people of Guernsey. It's clearly the intention of the authors to keep this a light little epistolatory romance, but the absence of any sources for further reference in the back was a let down. So I can understand the criticism of some readers, who think that the book is too light and fluffy, not memorable like other war books, but it is not the nature of this particular book to mine the depths of humanity - only to provide a story about love and moving on, and to remind us that even in wartime, people can still be selfless and kind. All in all, a very sweet book, like a candy melting on the tongue. And as one last note, although the characters are not always very clear (when I was reading, I apparently merged two people - Sophie and Susan - into one, without any loss in the story. There are far too many "s" names in this book) the important ones have well defined voices in their letters, possibly as a result of the two authors. It is no mean feat to do so, which is another delight of the book.
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