The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

In the aftermath of WWII, a writer in London named Juliet receives a letter from a stranger living on the island of Guernsey in the English Channel. This begins a correspondence that expands to other members of the islander's literary society, as Juliet wants to hear more about their society. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society was formed during the German occupation of the island, and became so much more.

The book started out a little slow, but when it took off, it really took off. It's written entirely in epistolary style, with letters and telegrams between various characters telling the story. The characters are endearing, and as the trials they went through during the war are revealed, the lasting effects are shown show more alongside them. The emotions are real, and I found myself swept up in them.

Early in the book, I was mostly annoyed with Juliet and her tendency to complain. It was establishing her background and life, I know, but maybe specifically because of the book's format, since we saw everything directly from her perspective, she just seemed whiny. Around the time she got the first letter from Dawsey on the island, her character deepened enough that I didn't dislike her so much. And then her sincere interest in the literary society and what the people on the island went through endeared her to me a lot more.

The format of the book is done well--each letter has a header stating who it was written to and from, so before you even start reading the letter, you are fully aware of that. It helps a lot, as eventually there are quite a few characters to keep straight. Some become more familiar, and others fall away, but overall, I only had a little struggle sorting through them.

Unsurprisingly, the characters are what make this book so great. I loved the way that the heart of the literary society was never even physically present in the book, once characters came together in the physical space, yet she was still a big part of the story. On the other hand, Juliet has this suitor that is pretty terrible. I don't get why she doesn't see how incredibly misogynistic he is, even in that somewhat different time.

This book is split into 2 parts, and by the time I got to part 2, I was completely hooked. It's a fairly short book, and I think the epistolary format makes it particularly easy to read, because there's not a lot of description. I read the bulk of it in a day. This is one book I am definitely going to re-read in the future. I recommend it for all fans of historical fiction, but even others, especially those who like character-driven stories. show less

The other night, needing a respite from all the horrible news, The Housemate and I decided to watch the film version of The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. It had come highly recommended as a comfort movie, and it did the job admirably. We both enjoyed the heck out of it. Then, when we compared notes, we both realized that were weren't clear on how much the film departed from the book.
In fairness it's been nearly 10 years since either of us have read it, and there have been, between us, probably several thousand books since then. So that night, when I lay down to read before sleep, I decided to revisit the original and see how much had changed. I was surprised -- pleasantly -- to discover that the film was quite true to show more the book. Yes, it had become romance forward, and yes there was some compacting of characters, but that's almost always the case. Still, the filmmakers did a good job at capturing the essential feel of the book.

Now understand, I am not and never have been one of those the-book-is-always-better-than-the-film types. I know better (*koff*Jaws*koff*) but in this case it's true. Good as the film is, the book is miles better. It's more engaging, the characters are more complex, the events... to be honest it's one of the few books that deals with the events of the war that made me think seriously about how my generation and those younger than I would cope with something like the occupation of the channel islands. (Not well, I'm guessing.)

For those who don't know, this is an epistolary novel, with just a bit of diary extracts to fill in the blanks about things the characters wouldn't be telling each other. Because of this we get a much clearer and deeper portrait of each character than any film could ever give us. And they're wonderful, all of them, even the dreadful old harpy Adelaide Addison who tries to warn Juliet about how the islanders were not fit to be written about. Shaffer has created some remarkable characters, and it's clear from the way she writes them, that she loves them dearly, a love that communicates itself to the reader.

I'm not going to give you all a synopsis of the story; there are many out there that you can find. What I'm going to tell you is this: If you want a novel that celebrates the human spirit with wit and charm, and an abundance of good humor, this is the book for you.

Once I finished, I went looking for more by Shaffer, and was sad to learn that she died only months before her only book was published. It was, in fact, finished by her niece, Annie Barrows because Shaffer was too ill to work on the edits. We are the poorer for having no more than this book. But in the end, it's enough. It's that good.

This is book #100 for the year! I'm glad I chose to revisit an old friend for that milestone. show less

I am certain that if I had picked this book up randomly in a book shop or library, I would have returned it to the shelf rather swiftly. Initial impressions were not good. This book had a daft name (which I often feel is shameless attention seeking but will forgive in genuinely talented writers) and was written entirely in letters. (By which I mean it was an epistolary novel. Obviously, I expect novels to contain letters from the alphabet.) Furthermore, the quotation on the front of the book labelled it “charming”, which is a word often used where “twee” would be more appropriate. This was a book group choice, and not one I’d been looking forward to. Would reading this be entertainment or mere drudgery?

The premise

In 1946 show more author Juliet Ashton is searching for a subject for her next book. She wants to move away from the light and frothy infotainment that has mildly amused readers during the war and become a more Serious Writer. Randomly, a letter arrives from a man called Dawsey Adams who lives in Guernsey. He has found a book she used to own and, having enjoyed it very much, has written to her to request the name of a London bookseller so he can purchase more, if indeed there are more. (This kind of question in older fiction does make one wonder how anyone ever found out anything without the internet.) Thrilled by his enthusiasm for her favourite author, Juliet begins a correspondence with Dawsey that soon broadens to encompass a range of folk from Guernsey, most of whom are somehow involved in the oddly named Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society. Has Juliet found the subject for a new book? Along the way, Juliet finds more than she’d bargained for…

My thoughts

I wasn’t keen to read this and so, inevitably, found the first few pages dull. Who was Sidney Stark? I wondered irritably, and what did he have to do with Susan Scott? However, forty pages in I realised I was genuinely enjoying it. What struck me, more than the storyline itself, was the gentle humour, the literary references and the very different view of the Second World War.

Guernsey was captured by the Germans early in the war and they were keen to retain it. There are some interesting historical titbits nestled neatly into the stories told in the letters, such as the note that the British refused to send Red Cross parcels to the islanders in case the Germans intercepted them and their forces were bolstered. I found these kind of details interesting and often shocking, but the way in which they were told ensured that the information never seemed designed simply to shock: it seemed to be part of the islanders’ stories and helped to form their view of themselves. I felt that the inhumanities of war were actually more forceful for being reported third hand and factually: the sense of realism created was highly effective. Despite the light, bubbly feel of most of the writing, there are serious issues and undertones related to this subject that give the work a pleasing sense of depth without creating a solemn mood. This is only compromised once in a rather ridiculous statement about the Germans ‘not knowing what to do with a man in a wheelchair’ – history tells us the grim truth of exactly what was done. Otherwise, the more subdued reflections are a welcome addition to what would otherwise feel rather too light and frothy. I finished the book feeling that I would like to read more about what life was like in Guernsey under the occupation, and I think that this is the mark of a successful book: I was sufficiently drawn in to the scenario to care about the history of the place.

I was also pleased by the presentation of the German characters. There is a tendency to reduce sentiment to over simplistic dogma, particularly when writing about the Third Reich, but most of the islanders recognise that the German soldiers were just that: soldiers. As such, they are humanised and act in a variety of ways. I had anticipated there being one lone atypical Good German and was pleased to be proven wrong. I felt that this made the narrative richer and the horror of war more pronounced. They were suffering too.

The central character is engaging and Shaffer cleverly aligns our viewpoint with hers on occasion so that we can develop some sort of bond with her. Her sudden obsession with Guernsey is believable, especially in light of curiosity of character, although some of her decisions are still rather extraordinary. Ultimately, she is simply a device to hold these stories together, but I felt that it worked. None of the characters in the novel are complex; indeed some are mere caricatures and have become slightly irritating by the end. I didn’t feel that this was a problem because this wasn’t a novel that claimed to be about character or plot. It was about story and the power of story telling.

The power of language and literature is emphasised. I really enjoyed the fact that the whole novel was shot through with books. Characters are continually discussing what they read and how it affected them. Cleverly, references to authors change according to mood of characters, so when Austen appears... This didn’t feel forced at all and it was a feature of the style that I really enjoyed, as I love reading, and that includes reading about books and their authors. Obviously, this would feel rather contrived if every character wrote about books, but this isn’t the case. Several ongoing motifs help to create the sense of an organic and coherent story instead of just a collection of letters (and telegrams).

A variety of perspectives were well integrated due to the characters' fundamental desire to share their experiences. Some letters are complete one offs, like the outrageously funny but also touching tale of whistling and prostitution from Henry A Toussant. Few of the characters were genuinely ‘individuals’ as the writing style varied little. One minor but incredibly irritating feature was the recurring phrase: "Now I will tell you ..." Does anybody really write like this? It seems doubtful. Many different characters do this. A member of my book group suggested that this was to show that they are not ‘worldly’ or especially well educated, but I still thought it was clumsy and, whenever it happened, it tripped me out of the story’s world.

As the novel develops there are some genuinely dramatic developments, which I liked because I do like novels to have a strong plot. However this really became a novel of two halves. Some of the other members of my book group felt that it was a problem when the action shifted location because they thought that the central device (letter writing) became less tenable. Certainly, towards the end there are a few highly contrived pieces of writing which did not work as well as earlier pieces, but I did not feel that there was a significant problem with the second half of the book. At least, not until the ending, which I felt was significantly weaker. The style of the narration inevitably removes some of the dramatic immediacy from the conclusion of the novel, but it was still very touching.

There is a brief acknowledgements page which explains the two credited writers: M. A. Schaffer became ill after completing the manuscript, which was then revised by her niece, A. Barrows. I did not feel that this was noticeable in the finished product, so they must think very much alike. Some readers may feel the poignancy of the whole tale is enhanced by the writer's death, which occurred as her novel was due to go into print, meaning that this is her only novel. This is followed by a more unnecessary afterword in which Barrows writes about the history of the novel’s creation in more detail. I didn’t feel that this added anything to the book, but guess that some readers will be interested due to the sadness of the author’s death.

Conclusions

Despite my initial reservations, I really enjoyed reading this book. It is rather light but has sufficient substance to move it slightly above the typical chick-lit fare due to the wartime background. It is heart warming without being preachy as so many of the characters care about each other and this is shown - lightly and amusingly - in their letters. I liked the sense of community and the fact that the islanders look out for everyone, not just their own. The epistolary format allowed you to fill in the blanks and helped to prevent a predictable plot becoming too obvious and therefore irritating. I found that much of the enjoyment was not in the (sometimes rather ridiculous) plot developments but in the literary references and the genuine sense that arose from this book of reading as a powerful act, rather than a simple pastime. I have to admit that it was…charming.

What is the society about? You’ll need to read the novel to find out… show less

Though you would never know it from the title, this lovely little novel is really historical fiction about the occupation of Guernsey by the Germans during WWII. The authors did a remarkable job of incorporating the sad and fearful details of this occupation into an uplifting love story. It is very cleverly written as a series of letters between the protagonist, a writer, Juliet Ashton, and her publisher, Mr. Sidney Stark, along with the people of the island of Guernsey. Her writing leads her to the island, where she becomes embedded in their day to day lives along with being caught up in their stories of the Germans. Some of these Germans are hateful, but not all of them. The story showcases how even the oppressed can recognize the show more kindred humanity of their oppressors in some instances.
“…they were a pitiful sight - those soldiers. Stealing from gardens, knocking on doors asking for scraps. One day I saw a soldier catch up a cat, and slam its head against a wall. Then he cut it off, and hid the cat in his jacket. I followed him – till he come (sic) to a field. That German skinned that cat and boiled him up in his billy can, and ate it right there…I thought, “There goes Hitler’s Third Reich – dining out”.

The book leaves one with an encapsulated portrayal of living under the Germans in WWII Europe, along with giving an accurate sense of the realism of the emotions and stresses of the occupied. It also made me want to hop on the next boat or plane to Guernsey!MAT show less

About forty-five minutes in to this eight hour novel, I was on the verge of giving up. I liked the writing and the pace but I couldn't engage with the apparently privileged middle-class characters sharing light-weight banter about publishing and book tours, immediately after the end of World War Two. They and the book seemed to lack substance and I was getting ready to move on. I promised myself that I'd stop after ninety minutes if things didn't get better.

They did get better. Dramatically better. So much so that I feel I would have missed something quite special if I hadn't persisted.

Looking back, I realise that the light-weight banter I was unsatisfied by was a forced cheerfulness shared by old friends trying to come to terms with show more the end of hard times and discovering that, once something bad has happened to you, it becomes part of you. You carry it with you like a scar or a shrapnel in your flesh. It is has changed you, is part of you but, with the help of light-weight banter and the love of good friends, need not define who you are going to become.

I started to engage with the book as soon as the letters from Guernsey started to arrive. These were people I wanted to know and who had stories that I wanted to hear.

As they were meant to, each letter pulled me further and further into the world of the Islanders and fed my hunger to know what the German occupation had been like for them: what they had done, what they had lost, whether and how they could build a future for themselves from the ruins of the war.

The audiobook format is a perfect match for the epistolary novel form, with different narrators bringing each correspondent alive. Every narrator did a splendid job in creating a sense of identity and growing intimacy as the novel unfolded.

Normally, I don't do well with novel about the behaviour of the Germans in World War II. Too many books seem to glory in the details of the atrocities or push for the easy-to-claim-in-retrospect moral high ground. What I found compelling about this book was the very personal nature of the disclosures, grounded in individual experiences where one has to decide whether to do what is right or what is safe, where one becomes or is made, more or less human by each decision and where the highest form of bravery is not giving way to despair in the face of inhuman behaviour.

There are many passages in this book that moved me to tears; many stories that I know will stay with me, even though I would rather not have them in my head. So much for the book being too light-weight.

Yet this book in neither a dirge nor a lament. It is a book about the joy of life and love as much as it is about sorrow and loss. There is a love story, delicate, slight but wondrous all the same, at the centre of this book. There are also friendships and kindnesses that lift the spirit.

By the end of the book, I began to wish that I too could visit this version of Guernsey and become an honorary member of its literary society.

I've seen some reviews that criticise the novel for not being focused enough on books, implying that the title and the literary society are marketing gimmicks disguising an entirely different type of novel.

I understand this view but I don't share it. The book does not focus on books. It focuses on readers, on why they read and why they need to talk to others about what they have read.

I came to understand how a single line from Shakespeare can "who says most when he says the least" can help a man crystallise his reaction to calamity and face it with greater calm, how the letters of a man dead for centuries can guide a lost and damaged reader back into society and how a tale written for a grieving child can bring hope and happiness years later.

In my view, "The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society" holds up reading and discussing with others what one has read, as an activity that can sustain humanity in the face of brutality, not by providing an escape route but by refreshing the roots of our humanity: a shared human condition, a shared and constantly evolving imagination and the ability to surface truth and emotion and give them their due.

I recommend this wonderful book to anyone who loves life and books and the readers who connect the two. show less

What a fine, gentle, book.

How do we survive adversity? Is there a point of super-saturation, when we can no longer endure?

This is not a book of WWII statistics. It does not catalog the atrocities, nor is every character a hero. But it is a book that examines the depth that may be found beneath what might be thought of as simple terms: Occupation; enemy; hunger; community; survival; healing.

It is written with grace. I am glad I read it.

This book, which is composed of letters, telegraphs, and the occasional diary entry, made me wish that we all wrote more letters. Somehow, the letters in this book all have so much love and personality in them -- I suppose because people in 1946 really relied on letters to connect and converse. This really is a delightful story -- the protagonist and writer of most of the letters, Juliet Ashton, is quirky and thoughtful. Yet it also contains some serious subject matter. And like all good historical fiction, I learned a lot by reading it. It's easy to forget how challenging and transformative World War II was for all Europeans, whether their countries were occupied by the Nazis or not. I don't think I even knew that the Channel Islands show more between England and France were occupied by the Germans at all.

And can I say, this book has the best title! Every time I told a friend about it, they were definitely thrown by it. show less