Melissa's Reviews > The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

*3.5 stars*

“Perhaps there is some secret sort of homing instinct in books that brings them to their perfect readers. How delightful if that were true.”

Believe it or not—as shallow as this may sound—the stunning movie tie-in cover was the catalyst, goading me to take a hard look and commit to a book that’s done little more than float along my periphery for years.

What do you get when you combine a roast pig dinner, an unavoidable lie and the most unappetizing pie? A mouthful: The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society.

Born from the quick thinking of a woman caught out after curfew and continued initially to thwart suspicion from the German occupation, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society took on a life of its own, becoming a salvation to the people of the small channel island during WWII. Providing hope, friendship and for some, a new-found love for books.

An epistolary novel (one told entirely through letters and telegrams), The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society picks up post-war, in 1946, relaying bits and pieces from the lives of what can only be described as a witty cast. There’s 30-something Juliet, a writer in London, fresh off a book tour and searching for that spark of an idea; something to obliterate her writer’s block. The bulk of the story is carried by Juliet, sharing her humor and reverie with childhood friends and the people she comes to care for in Guernsey.

One of Juliet’s previously owned books, marked with her address, lands a letter from Dawsey Adams in her mailbox. In a twist of fate, that very book found its way from London to Guernsey, becoming a treasured tome to the new owner. Juliet and Dawsey’s exchanged thoughts spur a letter writing campaign of sorts. With their words and stories of survival, the people of Guernsey lure Juliet to their picturesque island.

This is not what I would consider a literary tour-de-force by any means; especially where WWII fiction is concerned. It’s often predictable and even a bit silly, in some respects, but it’s a change of pace in a space that’s naturally filled with heavy reads. Like Juliet, I found myself smitten with the people of Guernsey—one of my favorite letters penned by a reluctant society attendee, turned full-fledged poetry reader, all to impress the woman who eventually becomes his wife.

The back half of the story is much less compelling than the first. With Juliet on the island, the variety of voices from Guernsey are lost, and for some reason, so is her enchanting nature. For me, the story went from colorful to drab, finishing with an untimely and honestly, unfounded question. To be fair, this is one of my biggest pet peeves when it comes to loves stories, so take my thoughts for what they are—the ramblings of a self-proclaimed picky reader.

With that said, there is something all too charming about a book that pays homage to the written word—highlighting the fact that even in some of the bleakest moments, books wield the power to bring people together.