“We’re young for such a small fraction of our lives, and yet our youth seems to stretch on forever. Then we’re old for years and years, but time flies by fastest then.” (p. 161)
Hello fellow readers!
I finally got my hands on a copy of A Spool of Blue Thread by Anne Tyler from our February Picks bookshelf.
As I read about the lives of three generations of Whitshanks and their house in Baltimore, Maryland, I felt like I was sitting down on a dear friend’s front porch, drinking iced tea, hearing about these people from someone who knew them well.
The stories about how this family assembled and lived out their lives take the reader on a rather interesting tour of human emotion. Some of the stories were sweet, some of the stories were sad, and frankly, some of the stories were disturbing. Each character dealt with family, the passing of time, love, and loss.
The house all of the Whitshanks spent a significant amount of time in became a character as I got further and further into the story. The house was a constant in the lives of the Whitshanks witnessing both their joys and their sorrows. Anne Tyler did a beautiful job of not only showing how dependent the Whitshanks were on the house, but how dependent the house was on the Whitshanks. “Houses need humans. You all should know that. Oh, sure, humans cause wear and tear – scuffed floors and stopped-up toilets and such – but that’s nothing compared to what happens when a house is left on its own. It’s like the heart goes out of it.” (p. 71)
Although this book is not making my “Favorites” shelf on goodreads, it had a certain sweetness about it that kept me turning the pages. Anny Tyler’s prose is lovely and worth experiencing.
Did you get a chance to read it? What is your reaction? Leave a comment below with your thoughts and be sure to tag your copy of the book on instagram with #TWTBookshelf.
Live, Love, Learn,
Candice & The Write Teacher(s)
P.S. – I enjoyed the following quote so much, I just had to share!
“Isn’t it interesting, people never seem to bring liquor when somebody dies, have you noticed? Why not a case of beer? Or a bottle of really good wine? Just these everlasting casseroles.” (p. 174)