Elena Mauli Shapiro

When author Elena Shapiro was a little girl, she was given a box of mementos that belonged to Louise Brunet, a woman in her apartment building. Louise had recently died, so Shapiro had no way to learn about the mementos or their owner. The contents of the box fascinated her and she turned them loose in her imagination. Years later she wrote a novel that tells Louise's story through the trinkets found in the box.

Louise grew up in wartime France; her father, brother and a cousin/boyfriend show more served at the front in World War I. She married Henri Brunet, a quiet and unassuming man who worked in her father's jewelry shop. Unable to have children, Louise became resentful and bored. She derived satisfaction from teaching piano to Garance, a very talented 15-year-old girl. And Louise had a mischievous side, combating boredom by gleefully making up outlandish, erotic stories to shock priests in the confessional. When a new family moved into her building at 13, rue Thérèse in Paris' 1st arrondissement, Louise was attracted t0 the husband Xavier, and envious of his happy marriage and children. Louise's story is an emotional one; she experienced loss not uncommon for that time period, but searingly painful nonetheless.

But there's another story wrapped around that of Louise. In the present day, American professor Trevor Stratton is working in Paris and finds a box of mementos (his secretary Josianne left it for him, but he doesn't know that). There are love letters from a young man, gloves, coins, photos, jewelry, and a handkerchief. As he pores through the box, his imagination runs away much as Shapiro's must have done. He begins constructing Louise's story, but it's often unclear when the story is true to the contents of the box, and when it reflects Trevor's imagination or even fantasy. What develops is a story within a story intertwining past and present in a most intriguing way. What really happened to Louise? What has Trevor made up, perhaps to satisfy his own longings? His findings are reported in letters to "Sir," who I presumed to be his superior, perhaps back at the American university. But he poured out his feelings so candidly and completely, I could not imagine such letters written in a professional context. When the relationships between Trevor, "Sir," and Josianne became somewhat clearer, the "story within a story" aspect of this novel turned out to be even more complex than I'd thought.

This book left me with lots of unanswered questions about Trevor and Louise which, like the box of mementos, are now left to run amok in my imagination. show less

One of the review clips on the back cover of my edition says "Highly entertaining ... extraordinarily sensual." I didn't find it sensual so much as disgusting. Another review says "A magical Amelie-style love story." I love Amelie and have the DVD so I can rewatch it from time to time. But this was nothing like Amelie. Much of it was unpleasant with graphic, gory descriptions of the horrors of the First World War. When the story began to delve into what seemed like magical realism, a form I show more seriously dislike, I decided that, even though I was very close to the end of the book, I had had enough. There are very few books that I have read through almost to the end and then just stopped. In fact, I can't think of another. But by this time I realized that I really hated the book and I would be better off saving myself the pain of going on to the end. show less

This beautifully written and illustrated book is a magical tale woven around a box of artifacts owned by the author. They tell the story of Louise Brunet, a woman who lived in the early part of the 20th century, as imagined by Trevor Stratton, an American academic working in present day Paris.

Trevor discovers a mysterious box of letters and mementoes in his office that was secretly left there by his secretary. He becomes enchanted by the objects; old love letters, notes, faded photos, pieces show more of music even a pair of gloves. As he examines each of them he begins to write about their significance in a series of letters to someone identified only as ‘Sir’ and in doing so creates the story of Louise. At the same time Trevor is becoming more aware of his secretary and the role she plays in his discovering the objects.

Louise is not what I would consider a typical woman of the 1920′s. Her thoughts, desires and actions are more consistent with those of someone living today. But then I would remind myself that I was experiencing Trevor’s fantasy of Louise’s life. Childless and married to a man of her father’s choosing, Louise suffered heartbreak when the love of her life was killed in The Great War. While she loves her husband, he is not the man of her dreams. She wants a child. She wants passion. She has neither.

Louise is an intriguing and complex woman; she also has a naughty streak. Thinking about a pair of lace gloves she is wearing while in church causes her mind to wander off on an imagined sexual fantasy. Another time she makes a false confession to shock a priest. She has a desire to sleep with her new neighbor and writes him anonymous letters while at the same time she invites him and his wife to dinner.

Throughout the pages the book is illustrated with color photos of the actual objects which were the inspiration for the novel. Each of the photos are also displayed on an interactive website which can be reached through links in the book, a wonderful enhancement to the story. This is a book that must be seen to be appreciated. Go take a look at that gorgeous site; you will not be disappointed; you will be intrigued.

Love story, romance and fantasy, this is a clever and captivating story that is at times both sexy and adult. It is a puzzle that keeps you wondering until the very end when all the pieces ultimately fall into place. An enjoyable read. show less

I thought I was going to be reading historical fiction about a woman in Paris in the inter-war years of the 20th century, but there was a lot more going on here. And much of it didn't quite work, though there were intriguing glimmers of how much better this could have been. The framing narrative of an American professor in contemporary Paris didn't work for me, and then it wasn't framing so much as weaving through? I think? Shapiro was trying to do too much and be too clever and had show more pretensions to a more literary book than she was able to produce. All in all, rather dissatisfying. show less