The Keeper of Lost Things: A Novel

Genre: Fiction

This is the story of Anthony Peardew, a writer, and his housekeeper, Laura. Laura, recently divorced from a very unkind man, is trying to find her new normal in the world, and has taken up caring for Anthony's home with zeal. His beautiful cottage feels like a refuge from a scary world and a bad marriage. But, there's one room in Anthony's house into which she is not allowed. This room holds a treasure trove of items that Anthony has found over the years in his travels (near and far). The items are organized, cataloged and have information about the circumstances under which Anthony found them. You see, Anthony, who very unexpectedly lost his fiancé, Therese, and a treasure she gave him before she died, has been collecting lost items, in the hopes that someone has found and saved his own most treasured lost items. Unbeknownst to Laura, she will be the recipient of many gifts from Anthony; some she will cherish, and others that she will learn to cherish with time. Written alternately from present time and descriptions of how some of the items are lost, this is a sweet story of love and friendship and learning that the thing that binds us all together is that we all have a story.

My grandparents are now gone, and left in their wake a lifetime (90+ years) of things. My mother had the odious task of sorting their belongings, a job that took her about a year. By all accounts, it was overwhelming! My sisters and I were lucky enough to be able to go through their home and pick out the things we wanted to keep. Lauren, my oldest sister, wanted my grandmother's paintings (she was an artist). Debra wanted mostly items that brought back memories of times spent together in their house. I picked odds and ends that I thought were useful, pretty or interesting, including this piece of driftwood my grandmother (I'm sure it was her), had on a shelf (see photo below). I also took a ridiculous number of wood ducks that I find charming (and that, in my mind, epitomize my grandparents’ house as they were all over), but are not really my idea of pretty. I don't know where the driftwood came from or why she kept it, and I don't know why they had an extensive collection of wood ducks, but I find myself thinking about it often and wondering what my grandparents thought when they saw these items. This book was a sweet reminder that "things" aren't what's important, but the experiences they represent in people's lives. If you're like me, this story won't be life changing for you, but it's a sweet read and enjoyable enough story line.