The Correspondent by Virginia Evans is a stunning novel. There is a small handful of books that I have wanted to hold close to my chest when I finished them. When I read (or heard) the final word, I was sad. I felt I had lost a friend. Not wanting them to be over, I had the impulse to read (or listen) to them all over again. These are books that make me want to keep being a writer. They are books that make me hope one day I will write one sentence that reaches someone in a way that these books have reached me. The Correspondent is one of those books.
I got the audiobook from the Brooklyn Public Library because so many people I know said how much they loved it, and in particular how much they loved the audiobook. Rather than being read by one narrator, this book has a different reader for nearly every character and I loved that as much as I loved the letters themselves. It felt more like the reading of a play than a book.
Rather than defining my to-be-read list by formal book reviews, I tend to read books that are recommended to me by people who know me. The fact that The Correspondent has become such a breakout success almost made me skip it because many times books that are this popular have left me wondering what everyone else sees that I don’t. So I got The Correspondent out of curiosity, but not expecting much from it. I was absolutely wrong.
A handful of minutes into the audiobook, I found myself being unable to do much else until I finished it. I found myself imagining the settings and the characters as my neighbors and friends even though the book has very little physical description. It is a series of letters (and emails and postcards) to and from different people in the book, most of them originating from or addressed to the main character, Sybil Van Antwerp, a forthright and articulate retiree in her 70s with steadfast opinions and deep, secret regrets.
By the end of the book we understand the arc of Sybil’s life that led to her talents, flaws, and circumstances. I laughed out loud, cried heavy tears, and learned so much about the human condition. The book made me want to give myself and others more grace, forgiveness, and love. It made me want to write more letters. It made me want to keep journaling. It reminded me that worlds don’t need to be fantastical to be poignant or wonder-filled. Our ordinary every day lives hold a magic of their own.
In the end we all become stories, as Margaret Atwood so beautifully articulated, and The Correspondent has that theme at its heart. It made me think about which stories people will tell about me. By the end of my time, what will I have done that will be worth remembering? Can living with the end in mind make our days more meaningful for us, and also for the people who will live beyond our last day?
I don’t have any answers to those questions. But I am enormously grateful to author Virginia Evans for planting those seeds in my mind and heart, and I will be thinking about them for a very long time. Perhaps I’ll write her a letter to let her know.


































