Meet the ‘Keeper of Lost Things’…
Once a celebrated author of short stories now in his twilight years, Anthony Peardew has spent half his life collecting lost objects, trying to atone for a promise broken many years before.
Realising he is running out of time, he leaves his house and all its lost treasures to his assistant Laura, the one person he can trust to fulfil his legacy and reunite the thousands of objects with their rightful owners.
But the final wishes of the ‘Keeper of Lost Things’ have unforeseen repercussions which trigger a most serendipitous series of encounters…
My thoughts on The Keeper of Lost Things
Way back in 2017, I was given a copy of The Keeper of Lost Things for a Christmas or a Birthday (I can’t remember which). At the time, it was one of those books that everyone seemed to have read and everyone seemed to love. I was excited to receive it. Then frightened to read it. I tend to try and steer clear of books surrounded by hype or adoration and this was one of them. So it sat on my shelf.
Fast forward three years and it was still there – along with too many other books I’ve bought or being given and have yet to read. I started to wonder. Should I – finally – give it a go. Or was it better of making it’s way into the charity pile? As this is a book review, you’ve probably guessed that I went with the former. The question is – did I enjoy it?
I thought it was a lovely, kind, and thoughtful book full of wonderfully drawn and quirky characters who I grew to care for as the story went on. Having lost more than one thing I cared about in my life (including the best pair of sunglasses I’ve ever owned), I love the idea of them suddenly turning up – though I wonder if they would be as good as my memory has painted them?
I also love how nice everyone is in the book. I enjoyed reading about people who cared about each other and about people they’ve never met. It’s was wonderfully ‘feel good’ and I can see why it was a hit. However, it also feels like a book that was of its time. It was reminiscent of other I read back then, such as The Last of the Greenwoods, books which I haven’t wanted to revisit and are now half (sometimes completely) forgotten.
That doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it. I did. I just didn’t find it as good as I was led to believe. I don’t feel like I’ve missed out on anything by not reading it until now. And I don’t know how much I will be recommending it to those who haven’t read it either.