Description:
“The Correspondent is this year’s breakout novel no one saw coming.”—The Wall Street Journal
“I cried more than once as I witnessed this brilliant woman come to understand herself more deeply.”—Florence Knapp, author of The Names
In development as a major motion picture starring Jane Fonda
LONGLISTED FOR THE CENTER FOR FICTION FIRST NOVEL PRIZE, THE ANDREW CARNEGIE MEDAL, AND THE WOMEN’S PRIZE FOR FICTION • A BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR: NPR, The Washington Post, Boston Globe, Elle, Christian Science Monitor, She Reads
“Imagine, the letters one has sent out into the world, the letters received back in turn, are like the pieces of a magnificent puzzle. . . . Isn’t there something wonderful in that, to think that a story of one’s life is preserved in some way, that this very letter may one day mean something, even if it is a very small thing, to someone?”
Filled with knowledge that only comes from a life fully lived, The Correspondent is a gem of a novel about the power of finding solace in literature and connection with people we might never meet in person. It is about the hubris of youth and the wisdom of old age, and the mistakes and acts of kindness that occur during a lifetime.
Sybil Van Antwerp has throughout her life used letters to make sense of the world and her place in it. Most mornings, around half past ten, Sybil sits down to write letters—to her brother, to her best friend, to the president of the university who will not allow her to audit a class she desperately wants to take, to Joan Didion and Larry McMurtry to tell them what she thinks of their latest books, and to one person to whom she writes often yet never sends the letter.
Sybil expects her world to go on as it always has—a mother, grandmother, wife, divorcee, distinguished lawyer, she has lived a very full life. But when letters from someone in her past force her to examine one of the most painful periods of her life, she realizes that the letter she has been writing over the years needs to be read and that she cannot move forward until she finds it in her heart to offer forgiveness.
Sybil Van Antwerp’s life of letters might be “a very small thing,” but she also might be one of the most memorable characters you will ever read.
Review
“The Correspondent is at turns amusing and, poignant and ultimately, a pleasure to read. This moving novel unfurls its truths one letter at a time, filling in a complex and memorable picture of one woman’s life. Like a handwritten letter at its best, The Correspondent is meant to be savored.”—Charmaine Wilkerson, New York Times bestselling author of Black Cake
“This novel is a complete and utter joy.”—Ann Napolitano
“Evans’s enchanting epistolary novel revolves around prickly septuagenarian Sybil Van Antwerp . . . [with] a dash of mystery that keeps the pages flying.”—The Washington Post
“The word-of-mouth bestseller of 2025 might be this quietly dazzling epistolary novel, which calls to mind Susie Boyt’s ‘Loved and Missed,’ another book that was passed around like a beloved recipe. . . . Note by note, Sybil’s world takes shape, raising poignant, timely questions about mercy and how we’re all connected.”—The New York Times, “Book of the Week”
“The charming debut from Evans takes the form of letters and emails exchanged by a divorced and retired woman with her friends, family, foes, and literary idols. . . . the detailed connections between each character are brilliantly mapped through the correspondence. It adds up to an appealing family drama.”—Publishers Weekly
“The circus of beautifully drawn characters, who receive and respond to Sybil’s letters, is vibrant and rich. Sybil has survived trauma, grief, and lost love. The letters are so deliciously crafted, Sybil’s life itself becomes a work of art.”—Adriana Trigiani, bestselling author of The Good Left Undone
“I finished this wonderful, wonderful book in tears, and had to take a moment—several moments—to pull myself together. . . . Equal parts sorrow and quiet joy, the stuff of life, it will make you laugh, it will make you cry, it will make you reflect, as all the best novels do.”—Fran Littlewood, New York Times bestselling author of Amazing Grace Adams
“I can’t praise it enough. Sybil is such a wonderful character, and the supporting cast so vivid and real. For a book about grief and regret it was also properly funny. It’s an absolute triumph.”—Clare Chambers, bestselling author of Small Pleasures and Shy Creatures
“Thank you, Virginia Evans, for a life beautifully told in letters, for creating a character whose mind struggles with her heart in a most intriguing, sympathetic, witty, and binge-worthy way.”—Elinor Lipman, author of Ms. Demeanor
“The Correspondent is the rarest of debuts with not a misplaced word or beat missed. Moving, funny and exquisite, it is a masterpiece in human frailty.”—Anne Griffin, #1 Irish bestselling author of When All Is Said
“What a lovely novel, I fell in love with the eloquent, stubborn Sybil, such a wonderful character.”—Margot Livesey, New York Times bestselling author of The Flight of Gemma Hardy and The Road from Belhaven
“Charming, engrossing, and deeply moving, Evans’s novel explores the way everyday choices and relationships shape a life and shows it’s never too late to form new connections, make amends, or even fall in love.”—Booklist
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
7 Rue de la Papillon
84211 Gordes
FRANCE
June 2, 2012
Felix, my dear brother,
Thank you for the birthday card, the fountain pen, and the book, which I started the day it arrived (Thursday) and finished today. It was exactly as you described. Unlikely and electric, inventive, and right up my alley. Seventy-three feels the same as seventy-two for what it’s worth, arthritis, constipation, and trouble sleeping, and I’ve decided to stop dyeing my hair. I don’t care much for my birthday, as you know, though it’s always nice of you to acknowledge it. Trudy and Millie of course came for appetizers and cards. The children both contacted me—Bruce had a strawberry tart delivered from a bakery (he’ll be up next weekend to clean out my gutters anyway), and it was awful, so I threw it out. Probably cost him a fortune. Fiona called from London. She said she won’t come home again until Christmas because work is keeping her jumping and now she is designing something in Sydney, for heaven’s sake, so she’ll spend a month in Australia. She assured me Walt doesn’t mind how often she is gone, but I’ll tell you, I don’t know how their marriage will make it. She’ll certainly never be able to have children at this point. (They’re not even trying. At least she hasn’t told me if they are. When I bring it up she chastises me.) Theodore Lubeck down the street brought me cut roses from his bushes, as he does every year, which is good of him, even if he is a renegade from the lawless fringe of the American West.
How is France? How is Stewart? What are you writing? Thank you for the invitation to visit, you’re always good to refresh it. Yes, I loved The Chateau, but that was a novel, and as much as I would love to see your new house, no, I’ll not come. Just as a summer afternoon is gorgeous from inside air-conditioning, and you step into the day, hot, muggy, miserable, a postcard of France with all the lavender and sunflowers, I imagine, is far more alluring than the place itself. It’s such a hassle to fly these days with the security and all the regulations about the size of bag and transferring the creams and contact lens solution into the small bottles. Honestly, it doesn’t appeal to me in the least, and I made it clear when you moved continents I wouldn’t be coming.
I was going through boxes and found this photograph (encl.) from the day they brought you home from the Sisters. Your little trousers and absolutely bald head. You’ve come full circle. Mother looks gorgeous here and I’ve never seen another photo of her in this green skirt suit, but I remember it clearly. I remember that day as clearly as if it were yesterday. I remember there had been a bad storm, no rain, but a strange wind and warm temperatures and there was a tree down in the yard and branches and sticks, and I remember the neighbor, Mrs. Curry, had made a dinner of pot roast and a chocolate pie and I’d been waiting all afternoon for the car to pull up and bring you. Mitsy hadn’t been able to get there for the morning chores because the storm had downed the lines on the Canton bridge, so I had dusted, made the beds, drawn the drapes. Can you think of who it would have been taking the photo? Mother’s sister Heloise was there looking after me, but I can’t imagine Heloise taking photographs. I suppose this is our first family portrait. I’m giving it to you, as I have my own photo of the day they brought me in.
My regards to Stewart, of course, from your loving sister,
Sybil
Postscript: Felix, I got into a little scrape last night. It was nothing, really, I’m fine, but the Cadillac is in the shop. More of an inconvenience than anything else, honestly.
June 2, 2012
Dear Mr. Lubeck,
Thank you for the exquisite white roses you left on my porch on my birthday, May 29. Furthermore, I received your voice message this morning. I was delivered home by taxi last night due to a minor car accident, but everything is being taken care of.
Regards,
Sybil Van Antwerp
Ms. Ann Patchett
c/o Parnassus Books
3900 Hillsboro Pike
#14
Nashville, TN 37215
June 2, 2012
Dear Ann,
I am writing to congratulate you on your most recent novel, State of Wonder, which was given to me for my birthday by my brother. I finished reading it this morning. Today is Saturday and I only started the book Thursday, which says something in itself, though you wouldn’t know that as we are strangers, though not utter strangers, as we have exchanged letters on one previous occasion, and that was when I read your first big smash Bel Canto in the very early part of the millennium and you sent a reply, remarking on my penmanship and encouraging me to address you by your first name. You might, though perhaps not, depending on the volume of letters you receive and read on a regular basis, recall from that letter that I enjoyed Bel Canto very much, but this new book is even better. (I should add, for clarity’s sake, that I did write to you when I finished reading the book before this one, Run, but I never heard back, but that’s just fine, so don’t give it a second thought.)
It typically takes me four days to read a novel of standard length, but I was flying through the pages of State of Wonder, that exotic Amazonian backdrop and those smart, tremendously complex women Drs. Singh and Swenson. How did you come to be so knowledgeable about these things—the details about the Amazon, all the science—? Did you travel there? I found myself wondering about the balance of fact and fiction with the matter of the tree bark. The scene when the behemoth snake comes up from the water onto the boat and wraps its muscular snake body around the child Easter with the Americans looking on in horror, the silence of that scene was positively cinematic. I didn’t take a breath for what was it then, five pages or more. And of course, the matter of Dr. Swenson, at her age (my age! Dr. Swenson is seventy-three, and so am I) being pregnant. I can’t imagine. When they retrieve the baby there near the end, well that sent a chill right down my spine, but it was wonderful to read such a complex woman of her vintage, bold with her intelligence and dignity as well as her errors, and the layers upon layers of her. I am not a scientist; my own career was in law, but I saw some reflection of myself in her. The agonizing ethical questions for which the reader puts her on trial. That amazement one feels at this stage of life—a sort of astonishment that is also confusion, which leads to a sort of worry, or a sort of fear, I guess. How did we get here? How can it be? My sister-in-law Rosalie and I exchange books, and I am positive she’ll love this one, so that’s perfect.
Please keep in mind if you ever visit Annapolis, I’d be glad to host you. I have a small house, tucked away in a charming old neighborhood where the homes are well spaced and with massive old trees, you know. It faces the water on a point, and the upstairs is a nice big guest room with its own lavatory and a dormer window that looks toward the Severn River so you can see the boats and the large homes across the way and my garden, which I tend meticulously, there below the window. I live alone, and furthermore, I only ever go upstairs to clean after I’ve had company, so it’s completely private and I think you would be very comfortable there. I am not a writer, but if I was I think it would be a nice place to write a book, so again, you are very welcome if you ever visit. Just a stone’s throw from DC.
Until the next book, or your visit, and with warm regards I write,
Sybil Van Antwerp
(cont. June 2, 2012, previous pages remaining UNSENT)
Reviews:
One of the Best Books I've Ever Read
Ever since the late eighties, when I read Lee Smith's transcendent "Fair and Tender Ladies," I've been madly in love with epistolary novels. There's something so intriguing and intimate about reading a story through letters, as well as something that feels deliciously illicit, as though you've found yourself alone in someone else's private library and cannot help yourself from reading the letters they've left out on the desk. For years I've sought out and read many, many epistolary novels, and I've enjoyed them all. That said, Virginia Evans's "The Correspondent" is so sublime, so beautifully written, so heart-wrenchingly poignant, that I am crowning her Queen of the Contemporary Epistolary Novel.No spoilers here, my friends, but suffice it to say that as a reader, you watch, over a period of years, a rather curmudgeonly woman in her seventies, facing a diagnosis that she is likely to go blind sooner rather than later, communicate with her family, business associates, lifelong friends, and authors whose novels she's recently read (I loved those; how brave! I am determined to follow her example; we'll see how that goes.) Over time, it becomes clear that her heart has been shattered by the death of a child years and years before, that she grieves the stilted relationship she has with her adult daughter, and that she harbors a devastating secret. You cannot help but begin to love her, in spite of her unfiltered and often just plain rude (and also hilarious) missives.I am a voracious reader and rarely cry at the end of a book, even if it's very sad, but I confess that I SOBBED at the end of this novel; we're talking half a box of Kleenex, a red nose, and a pounding headache. "The Correspondent" is pitch perfect, never a false note, and the characters are crafted with great love and abiding tenderness. I love it when I can feel an author's deep reverence for her characters; it binds us all - reader, author, characters - together in the journey. I adored this novel, just simply adored it. One of the most glorious reading experiences I have had in recent years. Thank you, Ms. Evans, from the bottom of my heart.
Do not miss this book!
Sybil van Antwerp has written letters all of her life. She has kept every response she received. In boxes. Thousands of letters. She has written film stars, authors, politicians, friends, family members, and continues to add to one letter in her drawer, but never mails that one.Sybil is now in what she calls the winter of her life. She had an outstanding career as an attorney as she clerked for a well known judge for 30 years. Judge Guy D. Donnelly.Adopted as an infant, she is a mother of two adult children and divorced from their father. She is a gardener and meticulous in her writing. She has also buried a son. Through letters, emails, and newspaper clippings, the reader is quickly catapulted into Sybil’s life. And, it is not a bad place to be.We learn she is being threatened by a stalker. She’s never been afraid before. She is now. We learn of family trips, of secrets, of regrets, of grief, and of the kindness she has offered to many. We also learn that Sybil is facing a tragedy.This is a delightfully sensitive book about a woman who feels more at home with a fountain pen than with face to face company. We smile at her humor, gasp at some of her decisions, and cry at others as we navigate through Sybil’s life. For as we all know, winter comes quickly.I loved Sybil! I loved her structured life as she confronts her grief, her heartbreak, her regrets, her health issues, and the many good times too. How does she juggle two men both vying for her attention? Do not miss this slice of a life well lived. Five solid stars for a beautifully written book and a great story!
Unique Story
I enjoyed The Correspondent; it took me longer to get into than most other books I’ve read. I almost didn’t finish it, but I’m glad I did. Once I really got into the story, I found it very engaging.The format of the story being told through letters felt very unique. It was an interesting way to develop the plot and the characters. I felt like I really understood Sybil. She was very relatable. She went through real life stuff, had conflicts, relationships that felt real, and thoughts that I belive most could relate with.I’m glad I stuck with the book and enjoyed the story. If you’re willing to give it a little time to build, it’s a good book.
Best book I’ve read in years
This book is one I could hardly bear to finish as I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to the characters. Such an interesting format and well-written story. I’ve recommended it to many friends and it’s a winner each time. Heartwarming and charming.
Wonderful characters. Well-written book.
In my 71 years, I have read many books, but only two I didn't want to end. Lonesome Dove and now, The Correspondent. Imagine my delight when I learned Sylvie loved Lonesome Dove, also. The characters were well developed. I could picture each one of them in my mind. So much love. So much pain. So much spoken (via written word) and so much left unsaid until the end. Theo of Golden was the last book I read, and I was delighted to have another wonderful "Theo" in my life. It makes me want to go buy some lovely writing paper.
Visit the Crown Store
The Correspondent: A Novel
AED19020
Quantity:
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Delivery fee of AED 20. Free for orders above AED 200.
Imported From: United States
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Visit the Crown Store
The Correspondent: A Novel
AED19020
Quantity:
Order today to get by 7-14 business days
Delivery fee of AED 20. Free for orders above AED 200.
Imported From: United States
At BOLO, we work hard to ensure the products you receive are new, genuine, and sourced from reputable suppliers.
BOLO is not an authorized or official retailer for most brands, nor are we affiliated with manufacturers unless specifically stated on a product page. Instead, we source verified sellers, authorized distributors or directly from the manufacturer.
Each product undergoes thorough inspection and verification at our consolidation and fulfilment centers to ensure it meets our strict authenticity and quality standards before being shipped and delivered to you.
If you ever have concerns regarding the authenticity of a product purchased from us, please contact Bolo Support. We will review your inquiry promptly and, if necessary, provide documentation verifying authenticity or offer a suitable resolution.
Your trust is our top priority, and we are committed to maintaining transparency and integrity in every transaction.
All product information, images, descriptions, and reviews originate from the manufacturer or from trusted sellers overseas. BOLO is not affiliated with, endorsed by, or an authorized retailer for most brands listed on our website unless stated otherwise.
While we strive to display accurate information, variations in packaging, labeling, instructions, or formulation may occasionally occur due to regional differences or supplier updates. For detailed or manufacturer-specific information, please contact the brand directly or reach out to BOLO Support for assistance.
Unless otherwise stated, all prices displayed on the product page include applicable taxes and import duties.
BOLO operates in accordance with the laws and regulations of United Arab Emirates. Any items found to be restricted or prohibited for sale within the UAE will be cancelled prior to shipment. We take proactive measures to ensure that only products permitted for sale in United Arab Emirates are listed on our website.
All items are shipped by air, and any products classified as “Dangerous Goods (DG)” under IATA regulations will be removed from the order and cancelled.
All orders are processed manually, and we make every effort to process them promptly once confirmed. Products cancelled due to the above reasons will be permanently removed from listings across the website.
Description:
“The Correspondent is this year’s breakout novel no one saw coming.”—The Wall Street Journal
“I cried more than once as I witnessed this brilliant woman come to understand herself more deeply.”—Florence Knapp, author of The Names
In development as a major motion picture starring Jane Fonda
LONGLISTED FOR THE CENTER FOR FICTION FIRST NOVEL PRIZE, THE ANDREW CARNEGIE MEDAL, AND THE WOMEN’S PRIZE FOR FICTION • A BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR: NPR, The Washington Post, Boston Globe, Elle, Christian Science Monitor, She Reads
“Imagine, the letters one has sent out into the world, the letters received back in turn, are like the pieces of a magnificent puzzle. . . . Isn’t there something wonderful in that, to think that a story of one’s life is preserved in some way, that this very letter may one day mean something, even if it is a very small thing, to someone?”
Filled with knowledge that only comes from a life fully lived, The Correspondent is a gem of a novel about the power of finding solace in literature and connection with people we might never meet in person. It is about the hubris of youth and the wisdom of old age, and the mistakes and acts of kindness that occur during a lifetime.
Sybil Van Antwerp has throughout her life used letters to make sense of the world and her place in it. Most mornings, around half past ten, Sybil sits down to write letters—to her brother, to her best friend, to the president of the university who will not allow her to audit a class she desperately wants to take, to Joan Didion and Larry McMurtry to tell them what she thinks of their latest books, and to one person to whom she writes often yet never sends the letter.
Sybil expects her world to go on as it always has—a mother, grandmother, wife, divorcee, distinguished lawyer, she has lived a very full life. But when letters from someone in her past force her to examine one of the most painful periods of her life, she realizes that the letter she has been writing over the years needs to be read and that she cannot move forward until she finds it in her heart to offer forgiveness.
Sybil Van Antwerp’s life of letters might be “a very small thing,” but she also might be one of the most memorable characters you will ever read.
Review
“The Correspondent is at turns amusing and, poignant and ultimately, a pleasure to read. This moving novel unfurls its truths one letter at a time, filling in a complex and memorable picture of one woman’s life. Like a handwritten letter at its best, The Correspondent is meant to be savored.”—Charmaine Wilkerson, New York Times bestselling author of Black Cake
“This novel is a complete and utter joy.”—Ann Napolitano
“Evans’s enchanting epistolary novel revolves around prickly septuagenarian Sybil Van Antwerp . . . [with] a dash of mystery that keeps the pages flying.”—The Washington Post
“The word-of-mouth bestseller of 2025 might be this quietly dazzling epistolary novel, which calls to mind Susie Boyt’s ‘Loved and Missed,’ another book that was passed around like a beloved recipe. . . . Note by note, Sybil’s world takes shape, raising poignant, timely questions about mercy and how we’re all connected.”—The New York Times, “Book of the Week”
“The charming debut from Evans takes the form of letters and emails exchanged by a divorced and retired woman with her friends, family, foes, and literary idols. . . . the detailed connections between each character are brilliantly mapped through the correspondence. It adds up to an appealing family drama.”—Publishers Weekly
“The circus of beautifully drawn characters, who receive and respond to Sybil’s letters, is vibrant and rich. Sybil has survived trauma, grief, and lost love. The letters are so deliciously crafted, Sybil’s life itself becomes a work of art.”—Adriana Trigiani, bestselling author of The Good Left Undone
“I finished this wonderful, wonderful book in tears, and had to take a moment—several moments—to pull myself together. . . . Equal parts sorrow and quiet joy, the stuff of life, it will make you laugh, it will make you cry, it will make you reflect, as all the best novels do.”—Fran Littlewood, New York Times bestselling author of Amazing Grace Adams
“I can’t praise it enough. Sybil is such a wonderful character, and the supporting cast so vivid and real. For a book about grief and regret it was also properly funny. It’s an absolute triumph.”—Clare Chambers, bestselling author of Small Pleasures and Shy Creatures
“Thank you, Virginia Evans, for a life beautifully told in letters, for creating a character whose mind struggles with her heart in a most intriguing, sympathetic, witty, and binge-worthy way.”—Elinor Lipman, author of Ms. Demeanor
“The Correspondent is the rarest of debuts with not a misplaced word or beat missed. Moving, funny and exquisite, it is a masterpiece in human frailty.”—Anne Griffin, #1 Irish bestselling author of When All Is Said
“What a lovely novel, I fell in love with the eloquent, stubborn Sybil, such a wonderful character.”—Margot Livesey, New York Times bestselling author of The Flight of Gemma Hardy and The Road from Belhaven
“Charming, engrossing, and deeply moving, Evans’s novel explores the way everyday choices and relationships shape a life and shows it’s never too late to form new connections, make amends, or even fall in love.”—Booklist
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
7 Rue de la Papillon
84211 Gordes
FRANCE
June 2, 2012
Felix, my dear brother,
Thank you for the birthday card, the fountain pen, and the book, which I started the day it arrived (Thursday) and finished today. It was exactly as you described. Unlikely and electric, inventive, and right up my alley. Seventy-three feels the same as seventy-two for what it’s worth, arthritis, constipation, and trouble sleeping, and I’ve decided to stop dyeing my hair. I don’t care much for my birthday, as you know, though it’s always nice of you to acknowledge it. Trudy and Millie of course came for appetizers and cards. The children both contacted me—Bruce had a strawberry tart delivered from a bakery (he’ll be up next weekend to clean out my gutters anyway), and it was awful, so I threw it out. Probably cost him a fortune. Fiona called from London. She said she won’t come home again until Christmas because work is keeping her jumping and now she is designing something in Sydney, for heaven’s sake, so she’ll spend a month in Australia. She assured me Walt doesn’t mind how often she is gone, but I’ll tell you, I don’t know how their marriage will make it. She’ll certainly never be able to have children at this point. (They’re not even trying. At least she hasn’t told me if they are. When I bring it up she chastises me.) Theodore Lubeck down the street brought me cut roses from his bushes, as he does every year, which is good of him, even if he is a renegade from the lawless fringe of the American West.
How is France? How is Stewart? What are you writing? Thank you for the invitation to visit, you’re always good to refresh it. Yes, I loved The Chateau, but that was a novel, and as much as I would love to see your new house, no, I’ll not come. Just as a summer afternoon is gorgeous from inside air-conditioning, and you step into the day, hot, muggy, miserable, a postcard of France with all the lavender and sunflowers, I imagine, is far more alluring than the place itself. It’s such a hassle to fly these days with the security and all the regulations about the size of bag and transferring the creams and contact lens solution into the small bottles. Honestly, it doesn’t appeal to me in the least, and I made it clear when you moved continents I wouldn’t be coming.
I was going through boxes and found this photograph (encl.) from the day they brought you home from the Sisters. Your little trousers and absolutely bald head. You’ve come full circle. Mother looks gorgeous here and I’ve never seen another photo of her in this green skirt suit, but I remember it clearly. I remember that day as clearly as if it were yesterday. I remember there had been a bad storm, no rain, but a strange wind and warm temperatures and there was a tree down in the yard and branches and sticks, and I remember the neighbor, Mrs. Curry, had made a dinner of pot roast and a chocolate pie and I’d been waiting all afternoon for the car to pull up and bring you. Mitsy hadn’t been able to get there for the morning chores because the storm had downed the lines on the Canton bridge, so I had dusted, made the beds, drawn the drapes. Can you think of who it would have been taking the photo? Mother’s sister Heloise was there looking after me, but I can’t imagine Heloise taking photographs. I suppose this is our first family portrait. I’m giving it to you, as I have my own photo of the day they brought me in.
My regards to Stewart, of course, from your loving sister,
Sybil
Postscript: Felix, I got into a little scrape last night. It was nothing, really, I’m fine, but the Cadillac is in the shop. More of an inconvenience than anything else, honestly.
June 2, 2012
Dear Mr. Lubeck,
Thank you for the exquisite white roses you left on my porch on my birthday, May 29. Furthermore, I received your voice message this morning. I was delivered home by taxi last night due to a minor car accident, but everything is being taken care of.
Regards,
Sybil Van Antwerp
Ms. Ann Patchett
c/o Parnassus Books
3900 Hillsboro Pike
#14
Nashville, TN 37215
June 2, 2012
Dear Ann,
I am writing to congratulate you on your most recent novel, State of Wonder, which was given to me for my birthday by my brother. I finished reading it this morning. Today is Saturday and I only started the book Thursday, which says something in itself, though you wouldn’t know that as we are strangers, though not utter strangers, as we have exchanged letters on one previous occasion, and that was when I read your first big smash Bel Canto in the very early part of the millennium and you sent a reply, remarking on my penmanship and encouraging me to address you by your first name. You might, though perhaps not, depending on the volume of letters you receive and read on a regular basis, recall from that letter that I enjoyed Bel Canto very much, but this new book is even better. (I should add, for clarity’s sake, that I did write to you when I finished reading the book before this one, Run, but I never heard back, but that’s just fine, so don’t give it a second thought.)
It typically takes me four days to read a novel of standard length, but I was flying through the pages of State of Wonder, that exotic Amazonian backdrop and those smart, tremendously complex women Drs. Singh and Swenson. How did you come to be so knowledgeable about these things—the details about the Amazon, all the science—? Did you travel there? I found myself wondering about the balance of fact and fiction with the matter of the tree bark. The scene when the behemoth snake comes up from the water onto the boat and wraps its muscular snake body around the child Easter with the Americans looking on in horror, the silence of that scene was positively cinematic. I didn’t take a breath for what was it then, five pages or more. And of course, the matter of Dr. Swenson, at her age (my age! Dr. Swenson is seventy-three, and so am I) being pregnant. I can’t imagine. When they retrieve the baby there near the end, well that sent a chill right down my spine, but it was wonderful to read such a complex woman of her vintage, bold with her intelligence and dignity as well as her errors, and the layers upon layers of her. I am not a scientist; my own career was in law, but I saw some reflection of myself in her. The agonizing ethical questions for which the reader puts her on trial. That amazement one feels at this stage of life—a sort of astonishment that is also confusion, which leads to a sort of worry, or a sort of fear, I guess. How did we get here? How can it be? My sister-in-law Rosalie and I exchange books, and I am positive she’ll love this one, so that’s perfect.
Please keep in mind if you ever visit Annapolis, I’d be glad to host you. I have a small house, tucked away in a charming old neighborhood where the homes are well spaced and with massive old trees, you know. It faces the water on a point, and the upstairs is a nice big guest room with its own lavatory and a dormer window that looks toward the Severn River so you can see the boats and the large homes across the way and my garden, which I tend meticulously, there below the window. I live alone, and furthermore, I only ever go upstairs to clean after I’ve had company, so it’s completely private and I think you would be very comfortable there. I am not a writer, but if I was I think it would be a nice place to write a book, so again, you are very welcome if you ever visit. Just a stone’s throw from DC.
Until the next book, or your visit, and with warm regards I write,
Sybil Van Antwerp
(cont. June 2, 2012, previous pages remaining UNSENT)
Reviews:
One of the Best Books I've Ever Read
Ever since the late eighties, when I read Lee Smith's transcendent "Fair and Tender Ladies," I've been madly in love with epistolary novels. There's something so intriguing and intimate about reading a story through letters, as well as something that feels deliciously illicit, as though you've found yourself alone in someone else's private library and cannot help yourself from reading the letters they've left out on the desk. For years I've sought out and read many, many epistolary novels, and I've enjoyed them all. That said, Virginia Evans's "The Correspondent" is so sublime, so beautifully written, so heart-wrenchingly poignant, that I am crowning her Queen of the Contemporary Epistolary Novel.No spoilers here, my friends, but suffice it to say that as a reader, you watch, over a period of years, a rather curmudgeonly woman in her seventies, facing a diagnosis that she is likely to go blind sooner rather than later, communicate with her family, business associates, lifelong friends, and authors whose novels she's recently read (I loved those; how brave! I am determined to follow her example; we'll see how that goes.) Over time, it becomes clear that her heart has been shattered by the death of a child years and years before, that she grieves the stilted relationship she has with her adult daughter, and that she harbors a devastating secret. You cannot help but begin to love her, in spite of her unfiltered and often just plain rude (and also hilarious) missives.I am a voracious reader and rarely cry at the end of a book, even if it's very sad, but I confess that I SOBBED at the end of this novel; we're talking half a box of Kleenex, a red nose, and a pounding headache. "The Correspondent" is pitch perfect, never a false note, and the characters are crafted with great love and abiding tenderness. I love it when I can feel an author's deep reverence for her characters; it binds us all - reader, author, characters - together in the journey. I adored this novel, just simply adored it. One of the most glorious reading experiences I have had in recent years. Thank you, Ms. Evans, from the bottom of my heart.
Do not miss this book!
Sybil van Antwerp has written letters all of her life. She has kept every response she received. In boxes. Thousands of letters. She has written film stars, authors, politicians, friends, family members, and continues to add to one letter in her drawer, but never mails that one.Sybil is now in what she calls the winter of her life. She had an outstanding career as an attorney as she clerked for a well known judge for 30 years. Judge Guy D. Donnelly.Adopted as an infant, she is a mother of two adult children and divorced from their father. She is a gardener and meticulous in her writing. She has also buried a son. Through letters, emails, and newspaper clippings, the reader is quickly catapulted into Sybil’s life. And, it is not a bad place to be.We learn she is being threatened by a stalker. She’s never been afraid before. She is now. We learn of family trips, of secrets, of regrets, of grief, and of the kindness she has offered to many. We also learn that Sybil is facing a tragedy.This is a delightfully sensitive book about a woman who feels more at home with a fountain pen than with face to face company. We smile at her humor, gasp at some of her decisions, and cry at others as we navigate through Sybil’s life. For as we all know, winter comes quickly.I loved Sybil! I loved her structured life as she confronts her grief, her heartbreak, her regrets, her health issues, and the many good times too. How does she juggle two men both vying for her attention? Do not miss this slice of a life well lived. Five solid stars for a beautifully written book and a great story!
Unique Story
I enjoyed The Correspondent; it took me longer to get into than most other books I’ve read. I almost didn’t finish it, but I’m glad I did. Once I really got into the story, I found it very engaging.The format of the story being told through letters felt very unique. It was an interesting way to develop the plot and the characters. I felt like I really understood Sybil. She was very relatable. She went through real life stuff, had conflicts, relationships that felt real, and thoughts that I belive most could relate with.I’m glad I stuck with the book and enjoyed the story. If you’re willing to give it a little time to build, it’s a good book.
Best book I’ve read in years
This book is one I could hardly bear to finish as I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to the characters. Such an interesting format and well-written story. I’ve recommended it to many friends and it’s a winner each time. Heartwarming and charming.
Wonderful characters. Well-written book.
In my 71 years, I have read many books, but only two I didn't want to end. Lonesome Dove and now, The Correspondent. Imagine my delight when I learned Sylvie loved Lonesome Dove, also. The characters were well developed. I could picture each one of them in my mind. So much love. So much pain. So much spoken (via written word) and so much left unsaid until the end. Theo of Golden was the last book I read, and I was delighted to have another wonderful "Theo" in my life. It makes me want to go buy some lovely writing paper.
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