With Love from London
A Novel
(Sprache: Englisch)
A librarian inherits a bookshop from her estranged mother, leading her halfway across the world on a journey of self-discovery that transcends time and honors the unbreakable bonds of love and family.
When librarian Valentina Baker was a...
When librarian Valentina Baker was a...
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A librarian inherits a bookshop from her estranged mother, leading her halfway across the world on a journey of self-discovery that transcends time and honors the unbreakable bonds of love and family.When librarian Valentina Baker was a teenager, her mother, Eloise, unexpectedly fled to her native London, leaving Val and her father on their own. Now in her thirties and fresh out of a failed marriage, Val feels a nagging disenchantment with her life--and knows she is still heartbroken over her mother's abandonment.
In a bittersweet twist of fate, Val receives word that Eloise has passed away, leaving Val her Primrose Hill apartment and the deed to a bookshop Val never knew she'd owned. Though the news is devastating, Val finds herself more determined than ever to discover who her mother truly was. She jets across the Atlantic, departing Seattle for a new life in charming London.
Slowly but surely, Val begins to piece together Eloise's life in the UK, falling in love with her pastel-colored flat, cozy neighborhood, and tucked-away storefront. But when she discovers that The Book Garden is in danger of going under, Val must work with its eccentric staff to get it in working order. In the process, she learns more about Eloise than she ever thought possible. And as Val races to save the shop, Eloise's own story unfolds, leading both mother and daughter to unearth revelatory truths.
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Chapter 1Valentina
London, England
November 3, 2013
There are far better things ahead than any we leave behind, says the stranger sitting next to me on the airplane a sixtysomething woman with feathered bangs and a hair tie clinging so tightly to her left wrist that I ve spent most of the flight worried it might turn into a medical emergency.
In my years of assorted travel, I ve had a long history of questionable airplane seatmates: the ninety-year-old man who touched my leg 3,781 times, then lapsed into a flatulence-fueled nap; the crying baby of all crying babies; the woman who drank too many mini bottles of rum and passed out on my shoulder, drooling.
However, on this particular flight, it seems I ve been graced by the Sentimental Orator. We d barely cleared the runway, and Chatty in seat 26B had already quoted Shakespeare, Marilyn Monroe, and, if I remember correctly, Muhammad Ali.
My tired, blank stare obviously troubles her, because the corners of her mouth plummet into a disappointed frown. You poor child, she says, shaking her head. You don t know C. S. Lewis? A shame.
Yes, I say, closing my eyes as I press my head against the seat back, attempting sleep or, at least, pretending to. It s . . . very sad.
And it is. I ve just been accused of not knowing a quote by one of my favorite authors, though I m presently too exhausted to defend myself. But what s sadder? The very quote itself.
There are better things ahead than any we leave behind.
My eyes shoot open as the plane begins to descend over London and a burst of turbulence jostles me against the Sentimental Orator who, I predict, will soon start reciting Gandhi, or maybe Mother Teresa.
My mind churns. What if C. S. Lewis was wrong? What if there aren t better things to come? What if . . . ?
The plane rattles again as it slips beneath a cloud, landing gear deployed. A moment later, we re touching down at Heathrow with a thud.
I peer out the window. So,
... mehr
this is London.
The Sentimental Orator gasps and fumbles for her inhaler as I take in my first view of England and its seemingly endless gray. A thick layer of fog and dark clouds blend like a muddled watercolor painting and my own gray mood. Gray on gray on gray.
I sigh as I collect my bag from the overhead compartment and walk numbly ahead. I m thirty-five years old. This should be chapter thirteen of my life maybe even chapter sixteen. But somehow, I feel as if I ve been catapulted back to the very beginning, or worst, thrust into a laborious rewrite.
Chapter 1: An American Divorcee in London.
Miss, the Sentimental Orator says, tapping my shoulder. I think you forgot . . . your book.
She hands it to me and I eye the cover with equal parts humiliation and denial. How to Get Divorced and Not Lose Your Mind. I d only read two chapters, as covertly as possible, but quickly lost interest and tucked it into the seat pocket for the next passenger s guaranteed delight. I mean, what therapist in their right mind would title a chapter: The Best Way to Get Over Someone Is to Get Under Someone ?
You poor thing, the Sentimental Orator says, smiling to herself.
Give this model citizen a gold star!
Are you going through a divorce?
Is it just me, or did she say the word divorce several decibels louder? The pair of women to our left look over, their faces beaming pity for me.
I nod. Yeah recently. More nearby eyes descend on me. I might as well have a sticker on my back that reads: recently divorced.
&ldqu
The Sentimental Orator gasps and fumbles for her inhaler as I take in my first view of England and its seemingly endless gray. A thick layer of fog and dark clouds blend like a muddled watercolor painting and my own gray mood. Gray on gray on gray.
I sigh as I collect my bag from the overhead compartment and walk numbly ahead. I m thirty-five years old. This should be chapter thirteen of my life maybe even chapter sixteen. But somehow, I feel as if I ve been catapulted back to the very beginning, or worst, thrust into a laborious rewrite.
Chapter 1: An American Divorcee in London.
Miss, the Sentimental Orator says, tapping my shoulder. I think you forgot . . . your book.
She hands it to me and I eye the cover with equal parts humiliation and denial. How to Get Divorced and Not Lose Your Mind. I d only read two chapters, as covertly as possible, but quickly lost interest and tucked it into the seat pocket for the next passenger s guaranteed delight. I mean, what therapist in their right mind would title a chapter: The Best Way to Get Over Someone Is to Get Under Someone ?
You poor thing, the Sentimental Orator says, smiling to herself.
Give this model citizen a gold star!
Are you going through a divorce?
Is it just me, or did she say the word divorce several decibels louder? The pair of women to our left look over, their faces beaming pity for me.
I nod. Yeah recently. More nearby eyes descend on me. I might as well have a sticker on my back that reads: recently divorced.
&ldqu
... weniger
Autoren-Porträt von Sarah Jio
Sarah Jio
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: Sarah Jio
- 2022, 400 Seiten, Maße: 19,9 x 12,9 cm, Kartoniert (TB), Englisch
- Verlag: Ballantine Books
- ISBN-10: 1101885084
- ISBN-13: 9781101885086
- Erscheinungsdatum: 11.02.2022
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
A cozy bit of escapism that will leave many readers dreaming of true love and the bookstores they might one day open. Kirkus ReviewsJio (All the Flowers in Paris) unfurls an extraordinary and heartfelt tale that will stay with readers long after the final page is turned. . . . Her masterful plotting will keep readers guessing until the end. This is sure to tug on readers heartstrings. Publishers Weekly (starred review)
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