The Story of Arthur Truluv

by Elizabeth Berg

I don’t know what I expected as I methodically started the next book in my queue. This one was labelled “Women’s Fiction” which I have learned covers a wide range of possibilities. As a book blogger, I rarely read the online summary again after I have made my selection of a book that I will read weeks or even months later. I never read other reviews until I have written my own. Those practices keep even my subconscious honest.

The Story of Arthur Truluv is a beautiful, delicate surprise. A rather short book that rightfully flows from beginning to end with only double line spacing to mark changes or pauses in the storyline, it is best with no chapter breaks. By the end I had fallen in love with the main characters, the aging Arthur and the young Maddy who is covered with the sadness of being different in so many ways. I was immersed in their individual stories and their collective potential for happiness. They meet in a cemetery and quietly begin a friendship that crosses age barriers.

I am not generally an openly emotional person, but The Story of Arthur Truluv left me in tears, not of sorrow but of hope. Hope for the characters and for the future of real people who find themselves closed in by circumstances but trying to address life and death with hope, courage, and the gentleness that emanates from kindness.

I would like to extend my thanks to netgalley.com and to Random House for giving me the opportunity to read this book in exchange for an honest review.

Rating: 5/5

Category: Women’s Fiction

Notes: I don’t usually read books I review more than once. I think this book will start a new Kindle collection for me: “Revisit.”

Publication:   November 21, 2017—Random House

Memorable Lines:

The bones of his face protrude; he’s gotten so skinny he could take a bath in a gun barrel.

But adults complicate everything. They are by nature complicators. They learned to make things harder than they need to be and they learned to talk way too much.

“But what we need are readers. Right? Where would writers be without readers?…See, that’s what I do. I am the audience. I am the witness. I am the great appreciator, that’s what I do and that’s all I want to do. I worked for a lot of years. I did a lot of things for a lot of years. Now, well, here I am in the rocking chair, and I don’t mind it, Lucille. I don’t feel useless. I feel lucky.”