Although she is, in fact, the heroine of a novel, the fact is that Ms. Emma Lion, of The Unselected Journals of Emma M.Lion, Vol 1-5, feels like flesh & blood, throughout every moment & page of these books. Everything she goes through, even the most absurd, has an aura of authenticity that has me willingly following her into places – and emotions – I would not ordinarily, voluntarily venture. Her author, Ms. Beth Brower, has packed these pages full of wisdom and wit unexpected in one so young.
“Is it immoral to marry a man solely to gain a library? And if that man happens to be tremendously good looking, is it more or less of a sin?” Vol. 4
(I vote no, for the record, Emma.)
Our heroine, a young lady of quality if not exactly means, has been orphaned for quite some time, and is, at the beginning of our acquaintance, only months from reaching her majority. Our cast of introductory characters includes a loathsome cousin (who has overindulged with her finances, leading to the ‘not exactly means’ portion of our description); a meddlesome matchmaking aunt (although she is thankfully set on matchmaking her own daughter, presently), various female friends from her years of schooling; her lovely maid, Agnes; a non-existent chaperone; and her newly met banker, who informs her of her change in circumstances, and his mute-by-choice wife, who joins later but is such a boon to the cast I feel I should include her from the start.
Emma’s ‘circumstances’ are that she will shortly be broke, basically. Loathsome cousin has spent most of her money, but luckily the house will remain hers, should she be able to support herself otherwise. Banker, of course, suggests marriage as an option, but also recommends hard work and/or being thrifty. Emma is capable of both of those! (And maybe eventually that third, biggest option??) But, as we are about to discover, she is capable in none of the expected or most reasonable ways.
Narfna’s lovely review of Vol 1-3, refers to Emma’s section of Victorian London, St. Crispians, as “basically the Stars Hollow of England,” and I cannot disagree. It is a made up, whimsical, less rigid & staid version of any Victorian England I’ve ever encountered. And I love and enjoy it there, and would fight literally anyone who had a bad thing to say about it or any of its inhabitants (minus the loathsome cousin, who all agree is not to be tolerated, really). There, she decides to rent out the other side of her duplex to a mysterious artiste type fellow named Pierce, and we are, through various and sundry experiences introduced also to the town minister, named Hawke – whose homilies are often literally poetry, but also sometimes just chapters from A Christmas Carol – and a local duke, Islington, who seems like he’s going to be all Duke (capital D, derogatory), and winds up being not that at all. In fact, the four of them, somehow, through some magic, by Vols 3 & 4 have become quite close (in ways that ordinary/boring actual England would never have allowed an unmarried lady and three disparate gentlemen to be). And yet…
“I’m going to ask a rather odd question,” said Islington. “It is not very like me to give credit to such things, however -” and he made a motion with his fingers that tied the four of us together. “What do you make of this?”
He was right about there being something, what I had sensed at dinner a few weeks back. Remembering the very thoughts I had after our dinner weeks ago, I glanced from face to face.
Pierce shrugged.
Islington waited.
It was Hawkes who gave voice.
“Alchemy.”
I shivered. That mythical pursuit that turns disparate elements to gold.
None of us questioned the veracity of his statement.
We stood in the dark, feeling that something beyond the ordinary was working on our behalf.
“Alchemy,” murmured Islington. Pierce added nothing, but the lights of the Cleopatra were bright enough to show a curious smile. They looked towards me. “So heaven has thrown me in with you lot?” Islington said he wasn’t certain my coming into his life was the work of heaven, Pierce made some comment under his breath as to weather it be heaven or fate, and Hawkes, well, he simply lifted an eyebrow and said “Good night all.”” Vol. 4
Alchemy. And I would agree: These journals have the same, mysterious, magical, mythical quality to them – That spirit of “somewhere in the mix, something beyond the ordinary has occurred here, and real gold has been created where before there was none.” Such friends these are. True, and real, and deep.
“Of course I’m coming with you. Don’t be daft. My friends do not go to war alone.” Vol. 4
“His words hurt in the way that truth does when you wish it was a lie but you know you cannot claim it to be.” Vol. 2
“Our conversation was very June and very Afternoon, meaning it meandered like a honeybee.” Vol. 2
Unexpected and kind and full of care for each other, that builds and evolves and becomes so much more as the books go along.
“Hawkes hadn’t expected or even invited my confidence, but, in that moment, he felt like a place, more than a person, a space set aside where time moved differently and one could find refuge. And so I said what I had not yet said aloud to anyone, not even myself.” Vol. 5
“He said he wished you to be wise, and good, and true to the beatings of your own heart, and hoped that you could be spared the extremes of society, both the very poor and the very rich, so that neither need nor indulgence would spoil the soul he loved more than anything else in the world. … “I stole it, that wish, that counsel, pretending the words were meant for me. And they have kept me on a steady path when I could’ve fallen into every temptation you could imagine, and some I daresay you can’t.” Vol. 5
And how they transform Emma’s life, through ordinary & extraordinary moments. She can start out asking “Am I simply mistaking paralysis for healing? (August 16th)” Vol. 2 and by Vol 5, we have her saying things like this:
“The memory came to mind just now. And something I’ve not felt for longer than I care to admit began to take shape. That, come sunshine or cloud, I was going to be fine. More than fine. In place, and strong, and anchored in. Tonight, Islington became a stake. And Pierce. And Mary. And Saffronia. And Hawkes. All I can think of is the sound of the rain on the canopy, and everyone still smiling.”
Two things can be true at the same time ->
I can love Alchemy as it is, in its current perfection, and never,ever want it to change, and also have read enough, for long enough, to know that a romance subplot is blooming and where romance subplot blooms, so does angst and ouches and big changes, oh my! These books can be the sweet, fluffy, nonsense my heart desires & my brain requires in this world literally being held hostage at the whims of a madman (see: Having a funeral for a sweet pea, spycraft via blackmail, et al) and also they can be the most moving and heart-wrenching things I’ve read so far this year (See: every mention of Alchemy, the approaches to & discussions of grief, &/or real life intruding on our most treasured friendship). See also:
“THE VERY LITTLE I KNOW ABOUT YOUR LIFE EXHAUSTS ME.”
AND ALSO
“You are the most singular woman I have ever met” Vol. 2
Both are completely, fascinatingly true, and it’s probably weird to feel like an honorary member of their Alchemized perfection? But I do, and I won’t apologize for it. And I’m sad that the library doesn’t have enough copies for me to have them all checked out at once, but also thrilled to know there are more treats awaiting me, when those last few holds come in. Plus, the series is still actively being written, so even more adventures await – I am both terrified of perfection being tempered, and exhaustively excited to see where this all goes. When it comes to the future Vols, I shall take Emma’s excellent advice here, for now:
“I’ve decided positivity is the Everest of virtues. You have to not only confront the dismal realities of life but choose, ofttimes, to blatantly ignore them.” Vol. 5
(And also, again, I agree wholeheartedly w/Narfna & suggest the wonder that is the audiobooks. Even on 3x speed (hush) they are sublime.)
