The Garden of Letters by Alyson Richman was one of the first books I read after Jan died. It was the perfect love story to read after the loss of the love of my life. The love Jan and I shared was because we shared a portion of the soul of the other, and thus we were meant for each other from day one. 

The two primary characters – Elodie Bertolotti and Angelo Rosselli – resonated with me as they were also people who shared souls. The book “captures the hope, suspense, and romance of an uncertain era, in an epic intertwining story of first love, great tragedy, and spectacular bravery.“

As I turned every page, the story filled my heart with love and happiness as it reminded me of the love that Jan and I shared.

Portofino, Italy, 1943. A young woman steps off a boat in a scenic coastal village. Although she knows how to disappear in a crowd, Elodie is too terrified to slip by the German officers while carrying her poorly forged identity papers. She is frozen until a man she’s never met before claims to know her. In desperate need of shelter, Elodie follows him back to his home on the cliffs of Portofino.

Only months before, Elodie Bertolotti was a cello prodigy in Verona, unconcerned with world events. But when Mussolini’s Fascist regime strikes her family, Elodie is drawn into the burgeoning resistance movement by Luca, a young and passionate bookseller. As the occupation looms, she discovers that her unique musical talents, and her courage, have the power to save lives.

In Portofino, young doctor Angelo Rosselli gives the frightened and exhausted girl sanctuary. He is a man with painful secrets of his own, haunted by guilt and remorse. But Elodie’s arrival has the power to awaken a sense of hope that Angelo thought was lost to him forever.

I not only recommend this book, but I am also looking forward to reading more of her novels.

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Short Stories that Will Define the Future of American Letters

The New Yorker’s collection of short stories – 20 Under 40 – is a collection of twenty writers “whose work will help define the future of American letters.”

Some of these I had read in The New Yorker and others I had missed. Either way, they were a pleasure to read.

As The New Yorker wrote,

The range of voices is extraordinary. There is the lyrical realism of Nell Freudenberger, Philipp Meyer, C. E. Morgan, and Salvatore Scibona; the satirical comedy of Joshua Ferris and Gary Shteyngart; and the genre-bending tales of Jonathan Safran Foer, Nicole Krauss, and Téa Obreht. David Bezmozgis and Dinaw Mengestu offer clear-eyed portraits of immigration and identity; Sarah Shun-lien Bynum, ZZ Packer, and Wells Tower offer voice-driven, idiosyncratic narratives. Then there are the haunting sociopolitical stories of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Daniel Alarcón, and Yiyun Li, and the metaphysical fantasies of Chris Adrian, Rivka Galchen, and Karen Russell.

Each of these writers reminds us why we read. And each is aiming for greatness: fighting to get and to hold our attention in a culture that is flooded with words, sounds, and pictures; fighting to surprise, to entertain, to teach, and to move not only us but generations of readers to come. A landmark collection, 20 Under 40 stands as a testament to the vitality of fiction today.

I recommend this collection of short stories.

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A Book for Our Turbulent Times

Leadership: In Turbulent Times by Doris Kearns Goodwin, one of America’s best presidential historians, offers an illuminating exploration of the early development, growth and exercise of leadership as demonstrated by Presidents Lincoln, Theodore Roosevelt, FDR and Johnson.

I received this book for Hanukkah from my granddaughter and son Mike and his girlfriend Elyssa. They know me very well. A book by Ms. Goodwin is always a must read. If you add in Lincoln, the two Roosevelt’s and LBJ, it is a book I cannot put down.

This NPR interview with Ms. Goodwin is worth listening to.

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The Second Mountain: The Quest for a Moral Life by David Brooks is a book I often recommend. Mr. Brooks writes about the first mountain that most people climb. The book challenges the reader to “live for a cause greater than themselves.”

It is about “to be a success, make your mark, experience personal happiness.” Even when they reach the top of the mountain, most people find they are unhappy. The climb to the summit has become unsatisfying.

On the second mountain, life moves from self-centered to other-centered.” Life becomes interdependent, not independent; it becomes a life of commitment, not about us.

Mr. Brooks “explores the four commitments that define a life of meaning and purpose: to a spouse and family, to a vocation, to a philosophy or faith, and to a community.

We live in a society, Brooks argues, that celebrates freedom, that tells us to be true to ourselves, at the expense of surrendering to a cause, rooting ourselves in a neighborhood, binding ourselves to others by social solidarity and love. We have taken individualism to the extreme—and in the process we have torn the social fabric in a thousand different ways.

When I read The Second Mountain, it became clear that Jan and I never even attempted to climb the first mountain. We were constantly climbing the second mountain.

We had chosen to do work that repaired the world; we both had a faith community and lived in a community.

All we were missing as far as commitments when we met was each other. Our love for each other provided the missing link and allowed us to climb to the top of the second mountain.

The Jan Lilien Education Fund sponsors ongoing sustainability and environmental awareness programs. Gifts made this month; I will match dollar-for-dollar. All donations are tax-deductible.

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Today, I started reading Annabelle Tometich‘s The Mango Tree: A Memoir of Fruit, Florida, and Felony. The Mango Tree is not just a memoir but a profoundly emotional family saga. It takes us through the complexities of Annabelle’s life, from her childhood in a house filled with balikbayan boxes, vegetation, and luscious mangoes to her journey from aspiring medical student to restaurant critic.

It is a tribute to her fellow Filipino Americans, her younger self, and the mango tree symbolizing her family. Above all, it is a heartfelt homage to Annabelle’s mother, Josefina, who carved out a life and a home without whom Annabelle would not be who she is.

When journalist Annabelle Tometich picked up the phone one June morning, she wasn’t expecting a collect call from an inmate at the Lee County Jail. And when she accepts, she certainly isn’t prepared to hear her mother’s voice on the other end of the line. However, explaining the situation to her younger siblings afterward was easy; all she had to say was, “Mom shot at some guy. He was messing with her mangoes.” They immediately understood. Answering the questions of the breaking news reporter—at the same newspaper where Annabelle worked as a restaurant critic––proved more difficult. Annabelle decided to go with a variation of the truth: it was complicated.

Thus commences The Mango Tree, a memoir that deftly weaves a tapestry of a mixed-race Filipina’s life in suburban Florida. Annabelle’s journey is not linear but a series of interconnected stories that delve into her upbringing, her father’s tragic demise, her mother’s longing for her homeland, and her quest for identity.

I started reading “Daughter: A Novel” by Claudia Dey today. According to Mona Dean, to be loved by your father is to be loved by God. Mona is a playwright, actress, and daughter of a man who is famous for a great novel. However, her father’s needs and insecurities significantly impact the women in his family, including Mona, her sister, her half-sister, and their mothers.

Mona’s father’s infidelity shattered her childhood, causing her to be in opposition to her stepmother, who also suffered from his actions. Mona’s father begins a new affair, and he confides in her. She enjoys his attention painfully and parasitically. When he confesses to his wife, Mona is blamed for the disruption, punished for her father’s actions, and kicked out of the family.

Mona’s life is chaotic, and she struggles to regain stability. Only when she experiences a profound and defining loss does she begin to replace absent love with real love? Pushed to the brink, she must decide how she wants to live, what Mona needs to say, and the risks she’s willing to take to say it.

Claudia Dey provides penetrating insight and devilish humor to chronicle our most intimate lives in “Daughter.” It’s an obsessive and blazing examination of the forces that drive us to become, create, and break free.