Dear Reader,
The bacon is resting in the oven (please let it be crisp but not too; careful, Drema!). The blueberry muffins are cooling. Word Raccoon is impatiently awaiting breakfast, but I’ve told her she must wait.
Time for the words. I want to get my thoughts down on Still Life before I even pick up Yesteryear, which is going to be a whole different burn, I’m sure.
This is not a book review. This is the beginnings of a book admiration society. I would say of one, because I’m the one writing this, but I know I am not at all alone in adoring this book. Actually, I asked for a copy of it for Mother’s Day, since I currently have our local library’s copy checked out.
Still Life by Sarah Winman appeals for so many, many reasons.
What I’m trying to decide is if my adoration for this book is based on my personal “likes” checklist, or if others would find it just as compelling.
It has everything. Here’s a partial checklist of just why I adore it:
- Devotion and loyalty among friends and neighbors to an aspirational degree.
- A non-traditional “family” that extends to friends and acquaintances.
- Enduring love, although the kind that rolls in and out with the tide.
- ART!!
- Florence and art beautifully discussed. Titian’s Venus of Urbino…
- A parrot who knows Shakespeare and communicates just a little more clearly than a real parrot would. Obviously we’ve got a hint of magical realism here.
- Talking trees!! (I mean, I always knew they talked, but these TALK. At least to Cress.)
- A man who is Rocking Horse Winner adjacent, but (spoiler) he hits it big each time.
- People with access to wealth who choose community and camaraderie over it.
- Room with a View (spoiler, damn) not only referenced but we see Forster in the novel briefly. I mean…
- A painting in the Uffizi which may or may not have once been licked by Roger Fry of the Bloomsbury group (!)
- Art being created, both for profit and freely given.
- Globes! Who knew how fascinating the construction of them could be?
- Art which is lost to the world in the novel and I need to know if that’s true.
- A historic flood. See above.
- An abundance of literary references.
- Food! (Pasta everywhere!)
- Wine! (Red and white)
- Passion (sustained, even though intermittent)
- The David! (I’m obsessed with that statue!)
- Brunelleschi’s dome (love!)
- Characters you come to care about so much you don’t mind when they wander off the main stage. You find yourself following even the most “minor” characters. That’s a writing feat.
- Missed connections that you’re told are mere temporary misses. If only she had turned right…
- Music! So much music. Piano, guitar…songwriting…
- Quotable, lyrical writing.
- Fellini! So much Fellini that it feels like you’re being offered another (and there are several) lenses through which to view this book.
- On and on…I feel as if I’m right back in Florence, although the book takes place in multiple locations.
This novel makes the world seem like a beautiful, difficult, yet ultimately cooperative place. There are no villains here, just wounded or apathetic souls. Even those are loved or at least affectionately tolerated.
(Notice I didn’t even mention the characters by name except Cress, I think. I don’t feel the need to. While I could point to a couple who are major players, they are all treated with major character energy.)
Who doesn’t want to be loved at both their best and worst?
I typically avoid saying things I don’t care for in books of living authors, because if the book is published, it’s not like anything can be done about it. But in this case, I’m curious if others agree.
After the novel’s climax, there is a resolution story thread that has been hinted at and lightly sketched earlier. This extra feels just like that, a scene that would’ve been cut from a movie or, I would suggest, would make a great after-the-novel bonus chapter. It could even live online as a “want more?” bonus. It was engrossing, but it wasn’t necessary.
(Yes, this book is so good that I’m “complaining” about something that I’m also calling engrossing.)
“Saturdayly,”
Drema
P.S. The blueberry muffins, spread with softened butter, were tasty. I’ve gingerly opened Yesteryear and read the first ten pages and while it is indeed different from Still Life, I still very much want to read it. It has a Stepford-Wives-but-self-inflicted vibe.
For the first day in over a month, I’m not at all sure I will do anything with my poetry. Except there’s this globe in Still Life, held aloft by its creator in a flood. My discerning Readers will be drawn to it. There’s got to be a poem in that. (Yes, I wrote intriguing lines from the book into my notes app for later possibly writing poems. Do you suppose as a crawling infant I put everything into my mouth the way I taste everything I read through my hands by writing about it?)
Also, I took so many screenshots of this book. This may not be the last you hear of Still Life from me. I haven’t even touched on the innovative POV use, the poetry (real and made to order), Keats, Barrett Browning…when I said this book has everything, I meant it.
Argh, this no longer feels like a P.S. but another blog post! My hasty words will have to do here. WR says if I’d just go fetch lunch for her I’d have to stop writing. (Yes, it’s now that late.)
Good call, WR. Good call.
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