I enjoyed this, but I'm still scratching my head about how far off my expectations it was. I bought it expecting a romance between the boarder and a reclusive landlady, perhaps with some details about hoarding / cleaning out the hoarded house, but it's really about a woman coming to terms with what kind of relationship she has/wants with her estranged parents, from whom she legally emancipated herself at 16 on account of them mismanaging her funds + her mom being like "c'est la vie, get money" to the fact that she was sexually abused by a famous director. No real details, but certainly dark themes at the root of what is, at least, ultimately a hopeful story about healing.
Meanwhile, the boarder described in the summary turns out to be a man in his fifties or sixties who is simply very nice, and just needs a place to sleep when not at work while his own house is rebuilt. Very much a fatherly/almost grandfatherly type in terms of how much he does to help fix and renovate bits of her house at no cost, just for fun.
What limited romance there is comes in the form of a man who regularly hires her through an escort service -- her main source of income now, though she apparently doesn't go farther than kissing -- because he's been "in love" with her since he was 13 and saw her in the movies. But despite his hope for it to turn into a real relationship, and hints that she might eventually be ready to give that, there's little to nothing beyond the business arrangement / quasi-friendship on the page, so that was a bust (although at least it got me a little hurt/comfort in the form of a hospital visit and recovery when she gets herself a nasty gash from a rusty piece of metal).
Honestly, I'm still kind of pining over Jude, the ex who left her -- not without some regret -- when her junk encroached upon the one room she had promised to keep free and clear for him. He still calls her once a month to see how she's doing!
Beautiful Jade, with the curly black hair that fell in his eyes ... We'd met at the fourth of July fireworks downtown and stayed by each other's side when we both realized we were there alone. Those eyes burned when he said, three years later, "I can't stand it in here anymore, Fia. You're burying yourself yard sale by yard sale."
As far as the collection of Stuff, there isn't a ton of detail given over to it, but there is some ("I have seven empty cribs in here, too, burdened by no foreseeable usage for their future, but they're good cribs, antique, made of fine wood"). It seems to be fairly clean aside from dust; no garbage, just overly cluttered, and I did like that she was mostly purposeful in what she stocked up -- all the objects she thought she might use for artwork were sorted into different rooms by color, for example. And she doesn't really have emotional attachment to most of the things beyond thinking it's a shame that they aren't being used well or in the way she thought she would at the time.
"I was going to do a sculpture/installation type piece devoted to babyhood ... I don't know what I was thinking now. No picture comes to mind. All I see are pieces of childhoods I neither remember nor particularly care about."
There's actually more detail given over to the architecture of the old house itself, and the little projects Josia works on to restore or enhance its original beauty, which I liked just as much. I didn't flag most of those passages, but here's one that fit a lot of details into one neat paragraph:
"I proceed to the marble front hall, where my bicycle leans against the handrail of the left leg of the double staircase leading up to the gallery above. The staircase is what sold me on the house, the curves mirroring each other like the harp motif on a brass music stand. The dust has collected between the finely tuned posts and the soft white paint is chipped, but the risers still glow at their centers, polished by my feet every time I head to bed and come down the next day to face the world."
In case you can't tell already by the number of quotes I saved, something I normally have zero patience for stopping and even writing down page numbers for, what impressed me most about this book was the writing itself. A lot of it is deceptively simple, but the way I kept finding myself tripping over randomly lovely turns of phrase made this worth the read. I'll leave you with my very favorite quote of all, this one less because of how its crafted than for how perfectly describes my own mindset and struggle not to thrift too much:
"The problem with collecting other people's junk is you just don't know what to do with it when you don't want it anymore. You feel bad about throwing it to the curb. It's too much trouble to sell. So you keep it around, knowing if you can't redeem it exactly, you've at least rescued it. Somewhat."