The Story of Arthur Truluv

The Story of Arthur Truluv

by Elizabeth Berg


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“I dare you to read this novel and not fall in love with Arthur Truluv. His story will make you laugh and cry, and will show you a love that never ends, and what it means to be truly human.”—Fannie Flagg

An emotionally powerful novel about three people who each lose the one they love most, only to find second chances where they least expect them

“Fans of Meg Wolitzer, Emma Straub, or [Elizabeth] Berg’s previous novels will appreciate the richly complex characters and clear prose. Redemptive without being maudlin, this story of two misfits lucky to have found one another will tug at readers’ heartstrings.”—Booklist

For the past six months, Arthur Moses’s days have looked the same: He tends to his rose garden and to Gordon, his cat, then rides the bus to the cemetery to visit his beloved late wife for lunch. The last thing Arthur would imagine is for one unlikely encounter to utterly transform his life. 

Eighteen-year-old Maddy Harris is an introspective girl who visits the cemetery to escape the other kids at school. One afternoon she joins Arthur—a gesture that begins a surprising friendship between two lonely souls. Moved by Arthur’s kindness and devotion, Maddy gives him the nickname “Truluv.” As Arthur’s neighbor Lucille moves into their orbit, the unlikely trio band together and, through heartache and hardships, help one another rediscover their own potential to start anew.

Wonderfully written and full of profound observations about life, The Story of Arthur Truluv is a beautiful and moving novel of compassion in the face of loss, of the small acts that turn friends into family, and of the possibilities to achieve happiness at any age.

Look for a sneak peek of Elizabeth Berg’s delightful new novel, Night of Miracles, in the back of the book.

“For several days after [finishing The Story of Arthur Truluv], I felt lifted by it, and I found myself telling friends, also feeling overwhelmed by 2017, about the book. Read this, I said, it will offer some balance to all that has happened, and it is a welcome reminder we’re all neighbors here.”Chicago Tribune

“Not since Paul Zindel’s classic The Pigman have we seen such a unique bond between people who might not look twice at each other in real life. This small, mighty novel offers proof that they should.”People, Book of the Week

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781524798710
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Publication date: 07/10/2018
Edition description: Reprint
Pages: 272
Sales rank: 26,808
Product dimensions: 5.18(w) x 7.97(h) x 0.58(d)

About the Author

Elizabeth Berg is the author of many bestselling novels, including Open House (an Oprah’s Book Club selection), Talk Before Sleep, and The Year of Pleasures, as well as the short story collection The Day I Ate Whatever I Wanted. Durable Goods and Joy School were selected as ALA Best Books of the Year. She adapted The Pull of the Moon into a play that enjoyed sold-out performances in Chicago and Indianapolis. Berg’s work has been translated into twenty-seven languages, and three of her novels have been turned into television movies. She is the founder of Writing Matters, a quality reading series dedicated to serving author, audience, and community. She teaches one-day writing workshops and is a popular speaker at venues around the country. Some of her most popular Facebook postings have been collected in Make Someone Happy. She lives outside Chicago.


Chicago, Illinois

Date of Birth:

December 2, 1948

Place of Birth:

St. Paul, Minnesota


Attended the University of Minnesota; St. Mary¿s College, A.A.S.

Read an Excerpt

In the six months since the November day that his wife, Nola, was buried, Arthur Moses has been having lunch with her every day. He rides the bus to the cemetery and when he gets there, he takes his sweet time walking over to her plot: she will be there no matter when he arrives. She will be there and be there and be there.

Today he lingers near the headstone of Adelaide Marsh, two rows over from Nola, ten markers down. Adelaide was born April 3, 1897, died November 18, 1929. Arthur does the math, slowly. Thirty-two. Then he calculates again, because he thinks it would be wrong to stand near someone’s grave thinking about how old they were the day they died and be off by a year. Or more. Math has always been difficult for Arthur, even on paper; he describes himself as numerically illiterate. Nola did the checkbook, but now he does. He tries, anyway; he gets out his giant-size calculator and pays a great deal of attention to what he’s doing, he doesn’t even keep the radio on, but more often than not he ends up with astronomically improbable sums. Sometimes he goes to the bank and they help him, but it’s an embarrassment and an inconvenience. “We all have our gifts,” Nola used to say, and she was right. Arthur’s gift is working the land; he was a groundskeeper for the parks before he retired many years ago. He still keeps a nice rose garden in the front of his house; the vegetable garden in the back he has let go.

But yes, thirty-two is how old Adelaide Marsh was when she died. Not as heartbreakingly young as the children buried here, but certainly not yet old. In the middle, that’s what she was. In the middle of raising her family (Beloved Mother on her tombstone) and then what? Death, of course, but how? Was it childbirth? He thinks that she was doing something in the service of her family, that she was healthy until the moment she died, and then succumbed to an accident or a sudden insult to the body. He also thinks she had bright red hair that she wore up, and tiny tendrils escaped to frame her face, which pleased both her and her husband. He feels he knows this.

It is happening more and more often, this kind of thing. It is happening more and more that when he stands beside a grave, his hat in his hand, part of a person’s life story reaches him like the yeasty scent from the bakery he passes every day on his way to the bus stop. He stares at the slightly depressed earth over Adelaide’s grave and here comes the pretty white lace dress she loved best, the inequality in the size of her eyes so light brown they were almost yellow. Tea-colored. It comes that her voice was high and clear, that she was shy to sing for her husband, but did so anyway. She did it at night, after they’d gone to bed; the night before she died, she lay in the darkness beside him and sang “Jeannine, I Dream of Lilac Time.”

And now this: she had a small diamond ring that was her mother’s engagement ring, and Adelaide wore it on a thin gold chain around her neck. It was too small for her finger, and besides, she wanted to keep it close to her heart. Her knuckles were reddened from bleach, her back bothered her from bending over the washtub to scrub her children clean, but she would let no one else do it; she loved the sight of them wet, their curly hair now plastered straight against their skulls, their cheeks pinkened by the warmth of the water; she loved the way she could hold them close for a long time, like babies, when they stepped out of the water and into her arms, into the blue towel she opened to them like a great bird spreading its wings. No. The towel was not blue. What color was it?

What color was it?

Nothing. That’s it for today. Arthur puts his hat back on his head, tips it toward Adelaide Marsh’s headstone, and moves along. Horace Newton. Estelle McNeil. Irene Sutter. Amos Hammer.

When he reaches Nola’s grave, Arthur opens his fold-up chair and gingerly sits down. The legs of the chair sink a little way into the earth, and he steadies himself, making sure the thing won’t move any more before he spreads his lunch out onto his lap. An egg salad sandwich he has today, real eggs and real mayonnaise, his doctor be damned. And a liberal sprinkling of salt, as long as he was at it.

Often his doctor can tell when he’s been cheating, but not always. Once Arthur ate a whole apple pie covered with vanilla ice cream, and at his appointment the next day, his doctor said, “I’m pleased with your progress, Arthur; whatever you’re doing, keep it up. You’ll live to be one hundred.”

Arthur is eighty-five years old. He guesses he does want to live to be one hundred, even without Nola. It’s not the same without her, though. Not one thing is the same. Even something as simple as looking at a daffodil, as he is doing now—someone has planted double-flowered daffodils at the base of a nearby headstone. But seeing that daffodil with Nola gone is not the same, it’s like he’s seeing only part of it.

The earth has begun softening because of spring. The earth is softening and the buds are all like tiny little pregnant women. Arthur wishes Nola were like spring; he wishes she would come back again and again. They wouldn’t even have to be together; he just wants her presence on Earth. She could be a baby reborn into a family far away from here, he wouldn’t even have to see her, ever; he would just like to know that she’d been put back where she belongs. Wherever she is now? That’s the wrong place for Nola Corrine, the Beauty Queen.

Arthur hears a crow call, and looks around to find the bird. It’s sitting on a headstone a few yards away, preening itself.

“Caw!” Arthur says back, taking conversation where he finds it, but the crow flies away.

Arthur straightens and regards the cloudless sky, a near-turquoise color today. He puts his hand to the back of his neck and squeezes it, it feels good to do that. He squeezes his neck and looks out over the acres and acres of graves, and nobody here but him. It makes him feel rich.

Arthur takes a bite of his sandwich. Then he gets off his chair and kneels before Nola’s headstone, presses his hand against it and closes his eyes. He cries a little, and then he gets back into his chair and finishes his sandwich.

He is folding up his chair, getting ready to go when he sees a young woman sitting on the ground, her back against a tree. Spiky black hair, pale skin, big eyes. Jeans all ripped like the kids do, T-shirt that looks like it’s on a hanger, the way it hangs on her. The girl ought to have a coat, or at least a sweater, it’s not that warm. She ought to be in school.

He’s seen her here before. She sits various places, never near any particular grave site. She never looks at him. She stares out ahead of herself, picking at her nails. That’s all she does. Fourteen? Fifteen? He tries waving at her today, but when she sees him she puts her hand to her mouth, as though she’s frightened. He thinks she’s ready to run, and so he turns away.

Maddy was half asleep when she saw that old man look over at her and wave. When he did, her hand flew up to her mouth and he turned away, then shuffled off with his little fold-up chair. She hadn’t meant to do that, make him think she was afraid. Things don’t come out right. If she sees him again, she’ll ask him who’s in the grave. His wife, she imagines, though you can’t be sure.

Maddy watches as the old man gets smaller in the distance. She sees him go to the bus stop outside the gate and stand still, staring straight ahead. He doesn’t crane his neck, looking to see if the bus is coming. He wouldn’t be one of those people who punch an elevator button over and over, Maddy thinks. He’d just wait.

She takes out her phone and snaps a close-up of a tuft of grass, a patch of bark. She loosens her shoelaces, steps out of her shoe, and photographs it lying on its side. She walks to a nearby grave and photographs the center of one of the lilies in the wilting bouquet placed over it, the gently arcing stamens, the upright pistil.

She looks at her watch: 1:40. She’ll stay here until school is over, then go home. Tonight, she’ll meet Anderson, after he’s done working. Anderson is so handsome, he makes you vacant-headed. She met him at the Walmart, where he works in the stockroom. She was leaving the store and he was coming out of the bathroom and he smiled at her and asked if she was Katy Perry. As if. She smiled back. He was on his way to get a hot dog and he asked her to join him. She was scared to, but she did. They didn’t talk much, but they agreed to meet later that night. Three months now. She knows some things about him: he was in the Army, he loves dogs, he plays guitar, a little. Once he brought her a gift: a pearl on a gold chain, which she never takes off.

She slides farther down on the tree she’s leaning against and makes the space between her knees an aperture. All those graves. Click.

Most people find graveyards sad. She finds them comforting. She wishes her mother had been buried here, and not cremated. Once she heard a guy on the radio say that the cities of the dead are busy places, and it was one of those moments when it felt like a key to a lock. They are busy places.

Last time she saw Anderson, she tried to tell him that. They were at a nearly deserted McDonald’s, and she spoke quietly. She told him about the old man she saw there all the time, about how he talked to dead people. She told him what the man on the radio had said. She told him she found it peaceful being in a cemetery with the dead. Beautiful, even. What did Anderson think?

“I think you’re fucking weird,” he said.

It made her go cold in the back. At first she sat motionless in the booth, watching him eat his fries. Then she said, “I know, right?” and barked out a kind of laugh. “Can I have one of your fries?” she asked, and he said, “If you want some, get some,” and shoved a couple of dollars over at her.

But there was the necklace. And one time right after he met her, he sent her a little poem in the mail: Hope this little note will do / To tell you that I’m missing you. Another time he kissed her from the top of her head all the way to her toes. All in a long line, kiss, kiss, kiss. She had thought of it the next night at dinner and had had to hide a shiver. “Eat,” her father had said. That was one of their chatty dinners, he talked to her. He said a word. Usually, they said nothing. Each had learned the peril of asking questions and getting answers that were essentially rebuffs. “How was work, Dad?” “Work is work.” “How was school, Maddy?” “Meh.” “Do you like this chicken?” “It’s fine.” “Want to watch Game of Thrones tonight?” “You can.”

She checks her watch again, and gets up to find another place to sit.

When Arthur gets home, he pulls the mail from the box, brings it into the kitchen to sort through it, then tosses it all in the trash: junk mail. A waste of the vision he has left, going through it.

He pours himself a cup of cold coffee from the pot on the stove and sits at the kitchen table to drink it, his long legs crossed. He and Nola, they drank coffee all day long. He pauses mid-sip, wondering suddenly if that helped do her in; she had at one time been warned against an excess of caffeine.

He finishes the coffee and rinses out his cup, turns it upside down in the drainer. He uses the same tan-colored cup with the green stripe all the time: for coffee, for water, for his occasional nip of Jack Daniel’s, even for his Metamucil. Nola liked variety in all things; he doesn’t care, when it comes to dishes. Or clothes. Get the job done, that’s all.

Here comes Gordon the cat, walking stiff-legged toward him but looking about for Nola. Still. “She’s not here,” Arthur tells him, and pats his lap, inviting the cat to jump up. Sometimes Gordon will come, but mostly he wanders off again. Arthur has heard that elephants grieve, seems like cats do, too. Houseplants, too, for that matter. Ironically, he has no luck with them. He looks over at the African violet on the windowsill. Past hope. Tomorrow, he’ll throw it away. He says that every day, that he’ll do it tomorrow. She had loved the ruffled petals. “Look,” she’d told him, when she brought it home, and she’d put a finger under one of the blossoms like it was a chin.

After a dinner of canned stew that looks like dog food, he heads upstairs to the unevenly made bed. She’d be pleased he does that, makes the bed. Here’s the big surprise: he’s pleased, too. A man doesn’t always make room in his life for appreciating certain things that seem to be under women’s auspices, but there’s a satisfaction in some of them. The toilet seat, though. Up. And there are other grim pleasures in doing things he didn’t used to get to do. Cigar right at the kitchen table. Slim Jims for dinner. What he wants on TV, all the time.

He lies down and thinks about that young girl. He feels bad for having scared her. A wave, and she seemed horrified. Seems like he understands more about the dead than the living these days, but he thinks he understands a little about her. If he sees her again, he’ll shout over, “Didn’t mean to scare you!” Maybe she’ll shout back, “I wasn’t scared! I wasn’t scared, get you!” The image of her sauntering over to him, her thumbs in her belt loops, looking to pass the time. They could talk. He could introduce her to a few of the folks underground—who he thinks they were—if she wouldn’t think he was crazy. Maybe she wouldn’t think he was crazy; from the looks of it, she has her own strange ways. He might ask her if it didn’t hurt, that ring in her nose, hanging out the bottom like a booger.

Reading Group Guide

pie crust makes 2
1 cup Crisco
2 cups flour
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon salt
¼ cup ice-­cold water
Use a pastry blender or fork to mix the Crisco into the flour, salt, and sugar until the dough is pea-­sized. Add the water gradually until the dough forms itself into a ball (you may use a bit more or less water, as needed). Divide the dough and roll it out with a good rolling pin on a floured surface (I use a pastry cloth); move quickly, rolling in one direction, not back and forth. Act like you know what you’re doing. The pie crust will rebel if it knows you’re afraid.

1. What did the epigraphs mean to you before you read the book? Did they seem to hint at any major themes in The Story of Arthur Truluv? How did the meaning of the epigraphs change for you, after you finished the book?

2. Arthur has a special connection to the dead. Every day he talks to his late wife, and he sees glimpses into the lives of other people who are buried in the cemetery. Do you think the connection he has with the dead influences how he views and lives his life?

3. Maddy is bullied by her classmates, both at her school and online. How does this effect the choices she makes early in the book, and how is she eventually able to overcome it?

4. Lucille is an incredibly talented baker. She puts so much time and effort into her recipes that it seems like more than just a hobby to her. What role does baking play in her life, and in the relationships she has with others?

5. Maddy and her father have a strained relationship. Why is it so difficult for him to give Maddy the affection and support she needs? Do you feel sympathy for him and the situation he is in? Does their relationship change over the course of the book?

6. Maddy and Arthur have many differences, the biggest of which is their difference in age. When they first get to know each other, there is a funny scene that highlights this, in which Maddy tries to get Arthur to use a curse word. Do you think differences in a friendship are an advantage or a disadvantage? Can you think of an example where this is true in other works of literature or in your own life?

7. Although Maddy never knew Nola, she honors her in a beautiful way at the end of the book. Why do you think she does this?

8. There is a popular adage that says: “Friends are the family we choose for ourselves.” That statement feels especially true for the characters in The Story of Arthur Truluv, who build an unconventional family out of friendship. Have you ever had friends that are as dear to you as family, or who are even closer to you than your relatives?

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The Story of Arthur Truluv 4.7 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 38 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This was a sweet book about a sweet elderly man who is mourning the death of his wife. During this time he befriends a teenage girl that he meets in the cemetery where his wife is buried. He and his elderly next door neighbor help each other navigate the avenues of their individual grief while giving the young girl the love and attention that is missing in her life. It is a feel good book that I highly recommend.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Beautiful story - very touching AND emotional. Pulls at the heart strings as only Elizabeth Berg can do with her fantastic writing. Thank you for another great book to add to my collection.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I wanted this book to never end and I would love to know and be friends with the three main characters, it would be an honor I
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Wow! Just finished reading this book. How powerful! What lessons to be learned from it. Ms. Berg has outdone herself. One of the most engrossing novels I've ever read. Right up there with To Kill A Mockingbird. Thank you Ms. Berg for time well spent reading this novel.
Windi 28 days ago
This world needs more Arthur Truluvs! Elizabeth Berg has written a beautiful story, and though the characters are fictitious, I could feel them in my heart and know that there is a version of them somewhere in this world all around us, if only we will open our eyes and our hearts to see. I chose to read this book after reading the Confession Club, not realizing that book was the third in the series. Having loved it so much I knew I had to go back and start from the beginning. I am so happy I did and I can't get the 2nd book fast enough (waiting for it to show up on my library shelf - someone else has it out at the moment). Great Book Elizabeth Berg! Thank you for writing this - and reminding us there are truly good people in this world - and those who need to just be loved! Readers - read this but go on and get the 2nd and 3rd books in the series while you are at it - you won't want to wait; I promise. Favorite quote: "Sometimes I wonder what the world would sound like if everybody stopped their complaining. It sure would be a quiet place." (If only!) Funniest quote: "Like farting into a thunderstorm?" (giggling again - can't wait to use this one!)
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Great feel good book
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
You won't be disappointed
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
MamaHendo More than 1 year ago
Every day at noon 85 year old Arthur Moses can be found in the same place - eating his lunch at his wife Nola's grave. Arthur wouldn't miss his daily visits to her for anything. He fills her in on his day to day happenings since she passed six months ago. Arthur misses Nola so very much. Maddy is a girl on the verge of adulthood whose home life is less than miserable and is on her way out of an unhealthy relationship. Maddy can't wait to escape the hell that is High School. She has no friends, can't go a day without someone tossing a disparaging comment her way and finds her only peace among the trees at the cemetery during her lunch breaks. This is where the unlikely duo meet for the first time, on one of their daily lunch trips. Arthur's neighbor, Lucille, is a retired school teacher and is equally lonely. She keeps Arthur's cookie jar full with her homemade baking. The three of them become an unlikely trio that prove that sometimes its the family that you create for yourself that ends up being the greatest blessing. Berg has written an absolutely heartwarming book. Some compare Arthur to Ove from Fredrick Backman's book "A Man Called Ove" but I found Arthur to be much more of a genuinely caring soul right from the start. Nothing had to be chipped away for the reader to fall in love with his heart of gold. Add this one to your must read list. 
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I love stories by Elizabeth Berg and this is no exception. Really a good feel book. Read it in one setting. Thank you
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This is a true "feel good" story. Well written, it not only lifts your spirits, it hold your interest all the way. Highly recommend it!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Sweet wonderful book; could hardly put it down. Elizabeth Berg has become a favorite author.
SGMomma More than 1 year ago
What a beautiful story with wonderful characters. Definitely need the tissues handy for this story. Left me with a happy and satisfied feeling when I put it down. I normally read murder mysteries and science fiction, but wasn't ready for how quickly this story.pulled me in. You won't be disappointed.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Such a lovely story, Arthur was special and taught Maddie so much. I loved this book.
ethel55 More than 1 year ago
This was a charming story, I appreciated the diverse ages of the characters and how the women grew. Arthur will remind many of a Backman character or two, but that's ok. I think this would make a great book club read, I would have loved to discuss it with someone after I read it.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Similar to Ove, but different enough. Makes you think. Hopefully makes us kinder. Enjoy!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I loved this book. It's so true to life to people as they age. It's filled with unexpected flashes of delightful humor. What a treasure!
Rubyroo1 More than 1 year ago
How utterly delightful! This book really played on my heartstrings. It is unusual for an avid reader to get to the end of a book and not wish that something had played out just a little differently, but as I finished "The Story of Arthur Truluv", I thought that each line in this book was exactly as it should be. Lots of reviewers describe this as a feel-good book, and maybe it is. I found it to be transformational- making the ordinary into extraordinary. Within this book is this transformative individual, Arthur, who chooses to look beyond the ordinary and be awakened to delight by the love he continues to share with his newly deceased wife. He is a simple old man who has a sixth sense about the world of both the living and the dead. His ability to know things about the people who are buried in the cemetery where he visits his wife's grave is indicative of his insight and openness to the world in spite of his age. Rather than seeming supernatural, he seems more in touch with the world around him to the point that he experiences things that other people miss. This genuine concern for others is what brings he, Maddy, and Lucille together. The magic is that he is able to transform the lives of these two people who he welcomes into his home. Ms. Berg creates a direct inference from his life skills as a gardener to his ability to grow and bring these women's lives into full flower. I agree with many readers, including the author, who have already said that we all need an Arthur in our life. Speaking of Ms. Berg, she can rest assured that I "got it", and I suspect so will many other readers. I highly recommend this book to everyone. Not everyone will appreciate it, but the world would be a much better place if they did. My thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for the opportunity to read and review this title. Please give us more like this, Random House and Ms. Berg!
Deb-Krenzer More than 1 year ago
I absolutely loved this story of three lonely people who come together as a family with heartwarming details and lots of laughs. The style of writing reminded me very much of Frederik Backman and I truly love his books. My first book by this author, however, it won't be my last. A very emotional, poignant and funny, at times, story that will either leave you needing tissues, or at least with tears in your eyes. Thanks to Random House and Net Galley for providing me with a free e-galley in exchange for an honest, unbiased review.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
One of the sweetest and best books that I have ever read. A warm story of generations of simple people bringing each other what each needs in life. Truly heartwarming.
Sandy5 More than 1 year ago
Oh Arthur! This guy had a soft heart and these two ladies waltzed right into it. I really loved Maddie. Arthur met Maddie in the cemetery where she would sit and draw. They had a comfortable relationship, where nothing was expected, and it was as if the air relaxed a bit when they were together. Arthur went to the cemetery daily to visit his wife, Nola. He would keep Nola up-to-date with all the latest information he had, as he missed her so. Lucille lives across the street from Arthur and she has good intentions but she also has high energy. Lucille is a busy-body and boy, does she like to talk. The three of these individuals make a great mix in this novel. Maddie is pretty much a loner who goes to school. She hangs out at the cemetery where she sees Arthur daily but really doesn’t say anything to him. Arthur notices Maddie at the cemetery daily too while he’s eating his lunch and talking to Nola but again, he doesn’t converse with Maddie. It only takes one day and then, the two of them finally start talking and a friendship emerges. Lucille, from across the street gets involved when Maddie begins coming over to Arthur’s house. I like the difference in ages between the characters and how they each have something to offer to each other. With different personalities, they can compromise and talk to work things out. It’s a sweet book and one that will leave a smile on your face.
bookaholique More than 1 year ago
If you are looking for a book that will make you chuckle and warm your heart, this is it! A delightful story of three individuals and the path they took to become a family. This was truly a gem of a story. ARC from Random House via Netgalley.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
One special story that shows families come in different ways.
ForTheArtOfIt More than 1 year ago
The cover of this book made me think of the movie "Up!" which is why I requested it. I find stories that capture the relationship between young people and older people enchanting. Arthur is not a grumpy old man, though he is lonely. He visits the cemetery every day to share lunch with his deceased wife and one day meets a young teen named Maddie who is also starved for connection with people. Arthur reaches out to her and without hesitation invites her into his sphere. She is doubtful of his friendship and invitation to visit anytime; he is quick to reassure that she she should have "come yesterday". Arthur recognizes the need for human interaction in those in his neighborhood and seeks to include them. He opens his home to a troubled teen and a grieving neighbor and the three of them form a unique family that has such a deep bond even though nothing else connects them. It's really magical to experience. Berg has done a masterful job of exploring the ideas of love and acceptance and the gentle caring for each other. This book makes me realize: it really can be this easy to love our neighbors - and what a rich blessing to all involved when we choose to be open and accepting. Additionally, Berg has some exquisite writing in this novel. She has a way of writing and my heart responds: "Yes, that's exactly how it is/was/feels". One of my favorite quotes from the book is this: For everything there truly is a season; if his life's work has not taught him that, it has taught him nothing. The birth of spring, the fullness of summer, the push of glory in the fall, the quiet of winter. (location 2279)
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Elizabeth Berg did it again! What a wonderful book...I love all her books...A very heartwarming story...As one said before me, I didn’t want this book to end.