As with X, I struggled to come up with a paperback "Y" romance.
I am therefore reposting a romance from a different A-Z List. The book isn't technically a paperback (I read it in hardcover), but it is a more than respectable romance.
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Meet Me at the Museum is letters between an English farmwife and a Danish museum curator who begin corresponding about the Tollund Man
and develop a close and sustaining relationship. I chose it mostly
because I wasn't interested in any of the other books on the shelves.
I was
hesitant because I generally don't read epistolary fiction, and I'm not
entirely sure why. When I do, I am always engaged. I find the reading
fairly effortless. And if it is well-done (which it is here), I come
away with a satisfied feeling.
I think, however, that I harbor
the suspicion that letters as fiction is cheating. Not really story. Not
complete. Taking the easy way out. Too off-the-cuff. I can't describe
my reaction, only I'm wary of the form.
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I recommend this epistolary book too!
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Such literature
can
be poorly done: ordinary people who just happen to bring up profound
ideas at the drop of a hat. Way too much exposition in cases when
people would not explain. Letters that say things like, "I'll tell you
the rest of the story in my next letter" (people never do this--not
truly), just so the author can create a new chapter. Sudden fulsome
descriptions of the protagonists, which again they would never do ("I
guess I should describe myself to you").
But the truth is, good versions of this form don't do the above. Meet Me at the Museum
is written by two fairly well-spoken people who enjoy the act of
writing, yet the letters don't feel belabored. They sound like two
people talking about whatever comes into their heads without
delivering a plethora of names and details that wouldn't matter to
anyone. (My mother used to write letters containing completely
mysterious details in utterly undecipherable handwriting: Yesterday, I
went to the store on Western Ave and bought two screws for the pictures
I bought from Leslie for $3.99 each, and I stopped to talk to Mr.
Hansen and then dropped by Mrs. Ferguson's. Who? Who, Mom? Who are these people? Why are you telling me about them?).
It helps that the characters in
Meet Me at the Museum
are primarily interested in talking about things and ideas. When their
families enter the picture, the details are entirely within context. The
world behind the letters is a full one, so much so, I imagined some fan
fiction in my head for one of the sons.
Most importantly, relying almost entirely on show-don't-tell, the characterizations of the principle characters in Meet Me at the Museum
are impressively clear even though the female writer, Tina, doesn't
describe herself until several letters in (in reference to her daughter
and then to another woman). The tone is consistent. And the letters are
surprisingly poignant and human. And they bring up history and
archaeology, which I always appreciate.
Despite my lack of warmth towards the form in general, I do recommend the book!