This group has been designated for adults age 18 or older. Please sign in and confirm your date of birth in your profile so we can verify your eligibility. You may opt to make your date of birth private.
Frances and Bernard by Carlene Bauer, A Book Review by Rebecca Moll
The fragility of life. The hopefulness of hearts. “Dear…”
First off, 5 Stars. There is something compelling about epistolary. Written conversation, the absence of sound and sight, all those innate clues of the human experience of the face-to-face version. And yet, a story told in letters, devoid of inflection and body language, is anything but one dimensional, far from flat. Perhaps the absence of other senses heightens our perception in this experience, too?
I do love letters. Always have, former international pen-pal and all. For me, a letter is timeless. A snapshot of what was and yet, will be. The spoken word last intact only as long as it passes through our brains, words out the window like little birds set free, remnants left to imprison our minds, memories like fools in a fun house of mirrors. In contrast, letters leave us with at least one half of the conversation, a proof-in-the-pudding real life experience that does not fail the test of time. Both reader and writer, this experience allows for more than a one-way interaction. The lost art of listening has left face-to-face conversation much like rush hour traffic with lanes cutting in from both sides at high speeds. But letters let you control the speed, slow down life a bit. And who doesn’t like a surprise in the mail box? A letter from a loved one, a far-away friend may even be better than a gift beneath the tree.
Reading a story told in letters is a unique experience as well. A bit like peeking over their shoulders. You get the story the characters decide to tell, perhaps, not their true feelings, not necessarily the whole truth, giving you, as the reader, a little detective work to do. And in Frances and Bernard, each letter a piece of the puzzle, you soon find yourself reading between the lines, what wasn’t put to paper, an emerging picture that paints a beautiful and bittersweet love story.
I understand that Frances and Bernard is based upon a collection of letters between mid-20thc literary figures, Flannery O’Connor and Robert Lowell. I must say Carlene Bauer did more than read between the lines in creating such a beautiful work of art. Characters that make you cheer, cry, and laugh out loud, riding the highs of life’s wins, the lows of loss, sharing the burden of regret along the way. As the pages turn, your heart will crack a little, mend itself over, only to crack again.
The fragility of life. The hopefulness of hearts.
If you haven’t read Frances and Bernard, please do. So much more than fiction. Take it from someone whose circumstances precipitate letters with a loved one, there is beauty in the back and forth, pen to paper, signed and sealed, stamped and sent forth. And as a little piece of you soars the skies, you remain, a little fragile in the time in-between, a heart full of hope, until, voilà - a letter arrives in the mail.
First off, 5 Stars. There is something compelling about epistolary. Written conversation, the absence of sound and sight, all those innate clues of the human experience of the face-to-face version. And yet, a story told in letters, devoid of inflection and body language, is anything but one dimensional, far from flat. Perhaps the absence of other senses heightens our perception in this experience, too?
I do love letters. Always have, former international pen-pal and all. For me, a letter is timeless. A snapshot of what was and yet, will be. The spoken word last intact only as long as it passes through our brains, words out the window like little birds set free, remnants left to imprison our minds, memories like fools in a fun house of mirrors. In contrast, letters leave us with at least one half of the conversation, a proof-in-the-pudding real life experience that does not fail the test of time. Both reader and writer, this experience allows for more than a one-way interaction. The lost art of listening has left face-to-face conversation much like rush hour traffic with lanes cutting in from both sides at high speeds. But letters let you control the speed, slow down life a bit. And who doesn’t like a surprise in the mail box? A letter from a loved one, a far-away friend may even be better than a gift beneath the tree.
Reading a story told in letters is a unique experience as well. A bit like peeking over their shoulders. You get the story the characters decide to tell, perhaps, not their true feelings, not necessarily the whole truth, giving you, as the reader, a little detective work to do. And in Frances and Bernard, each letter a piece of the puzzle, you soon find yourself reading between the lines, what wasn’t put to paper, an emerging picture that paints a beautiful and bittersweet love story.
I understand that Frances and Bernard is based upon a collection of letters between mid-20thc literary figures, Flannery O’Connor and Robert Lowell. I must say Carlene Bauer did more than read between the lines in creating such a beautiful work of art. Characters that make you cheer, cry, and laugh out loud, riding the highs of life’s wins, the lows of loss, sharing the burden of regret along the way. As the pages turn, your heart will crack a little, mend itself over, only to crack again.
The fragility of life. The hopefulness of hearts.
If you haven’t read Frances and Bernard, please do. So much more than fiction. Take it from someone whose circumstances precipitate letters with a loved one, there is beauty in the back and forth, pen to paper, signed and sealed, stamped and sent forth. And as a little piece of you soars the skies, you remain, a little fragile in the time in-between, a heart full of hope, until, voilà - a letter arrives in the mail.
No comments have been added yet.
