Title: The Echo of Old Books
Author: Davis, Barbara
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Pages: 431
Date Read: 24 November 2024
Bookshelves: read, favorites
My Rating (out of 5): ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

I sit by my desk, staring at a blank screen waiting for these words to come. They do not. Not keen to force a review my heart was not yet ready to render, I let go in the hopes that tomorrow would be better.

Tomorrow is here, and the setting is familiar. Same desk, same blank screen, still waiting for the words to find me. The sort of words that do this book justice. The only difference this time is that I have primed my subconscious with some piano in the background — my remedy for such difficult moments. And now that my block appears to be out of the way, allow me to begin, first, with some back story.

After reading Zusak’s The Book Thief; Zafon’s The Shadow of the Wind; Ba’s So Long a Letter; and Koenig’s Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, I began to appreciate that the best words, the best writing, and the best storytelling were often found in books themed around the written word — think books, letters, dictionaries. I understood at the time that reading four books hardly justified my conclusions on such a crucial matter but I did not let that deter me; I began to seek books that satisfied these requirements with total vehemence.

Over time, I observed that books that met these conditions usually gave themselves away with their titles. These books would include certain keywords (“letter”, “book”, “bookseller”, “dictionary” – another nod to the written word) that signalled the book’s theme. I believe this naming strategy serves two purposes. The first is that it helps the books stand out in a sea of book titles. And second, it signals to the enlightened reader to immediately judge said book by its title. Armed with these insights, I started the search for my next great read, sifting, examining and judging books as I went. A few hasty conclusions, blind faith, and a stroke of chance later, I discovered The Echo of Old Books by Barbara Davis.

In the book, the reader is introduced to Ashlyn, a collector and restorer of old books, who can read the unique energy off any book she holds. One day, she encounters two books— one written as a rebuttal to the other— two lovers’ account about what their love had cost. These books would change Ashlyn’s life forever; leading her to dig into the life of a very powerful family and the choices its members had to make. Through these accounts, Ashlyn would come to know what the lovers had and what they lost. She would also learn a lot about herself in the process. As much as this story was an account of the tragedy of love between two people only fate could have brought together, it was also a wholesome story of self-discovery, love, friendship, sacrifice, family, and reconciliation.

The characters in this book were developed with care and empathy. The reader was made to understand the characters’ motivations, flaws and the rationale for the choices they made. Davis told this story with a fierce control of her characters, which I appreciated. There were no major gaps in the character development; no holes left as an exercise for the reader to fill. I respect that such attention to character development did not stop with the major characters. A good example of this is the arc of Corinne, Belle’s sister. Having understood her twisted loyalty to order and family, it was easy for the reader to reconcile her actions throughout the book.

There were many things to love about this book, but one that was hard to miss was the author’s love for words. You could tell. In the way she crafted her sentences and the way she rendered the story. With Davis, the reader understands that they are in the company of an author who takes the structure of sentences very seriously. Every sentence was deliberate, engineered to perfection. Paragraphs were like verses, chapters were like songs. It was beautiful.

What’s more, Davis did not waste words, and by consequence, did not waste the reader’s time. For readers who appreciate the nuances of how one sentence eases into the next, this book was a feast for the eyes (technically the brain but you get the point). Too many times, I would stop mid-sentence just to appreciate how a sentence was put together in such a manner. The best thing about the way Davis writes is that you do not need to invest fifty pages to appreciate her talent—her ability was apparent from the first page, or in this case, even before the story began. On her dedication page, she referred to librarians and booksellers as “custodians of imagination” and “matchmakers of the written word”. I can confirm that this brilliance only got better as the story progressed.

I don’t have enough words for how much I enjoyed this book. In what has been a challenging year on many fronts, it was comforting — the guarantee that I could lose myself in the story each time I continued from where I left off. Two pages on the train, five pages just before I hit the bed, and another three pages while in the kitchen — my delay was deliberate. I did not want this book to end. And now that I have turned the last page, this book will echo with me for a very long time. With this book, Davis has joined the elite class of authors like Shafak & Jenkins-Reid whose books I endeavour to read once a year to ration their supply. The Echo of Old Books is without question my best read of the year and one of my all-time favourites.

Looks like my blind faith paid off and my reality has matched my earlier conclusions. Books about books is where the fun is at, folks. Do what you must with this information.

Five stars. Of course.