97. 'The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society'

If I could produce, in my whole lifetime, one piece of written work that induced in another the feelings this book produces in me, I could die happy on the spot. Sadly for me and my meagre talent, I don't think it will ever happen, but it is a joyous standard to attempt.

The story of Juliet Ashton and the Guernsey islanders is a classic one, in many ways, but there's a spring and a twinkle in the writing that's just delicious, and while you're reading the characters seem to leap off the page into the room and stand around you chatting. The structure of the story is perfect, the highs and lows judiciously meted out, the payoff substantial, yet subtle.

Of course the biggest frustration and sadness of the book is that its author didn't live to see it published - which causes grief in my heart for two reasons:

1) She probably worked hard to produce it - I wish she had lived to see how much her book is loved and cherished by its readers.

2) I can't look forward to the next one.

I bought myself a copy yesterday in a secondhand bookshop because the weather's been rubbish and Herself keeps having long, loud telephone conversations when I'm trying to work (to be fair, so's she) and I needed both distraction and cheering up. I've managed to buy an American copy which means there are some bizarre and annoying 'translations' but suffice to say by the time I was ready for sleep last night I had read more than half the book and was feeling that same mixture of gratitude, joy and raging jealousy I've felt before. It's mainly the first two, with a small but tangy drop of the last. I will try NOT to finish it today, as once it's finished I'll have to wait another few months to read it again and I'm not sure that the Anne Tyler I've bought to read next will make it onto the 365. But you never know...