Book Review: "The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry" by Gabrielle Zevin

If ever there were a novel written specifically for book people, this is it: The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry by Gabrielle Zevin. Embittered, socially inept and self-destructive since the death of his wife Nic, A.J. Fikry runs a dying bookstore on Alice Island, on the New England coast. It's a small community, difficult to reach from urban hubs like Boston, and A.J.'s only plan is to run his business till it dies, then sell his first-edition copy of Edgar Allen Poe's Tamerlane and retire on the proceeds.

But his sad little life changes one night when, while A.J. is passed out at his kitchen table, Tamerlane is stolen. Shortly thereafter, A.J. finds a toddler left in the store's children's section with a note pinned to her coat: her name is Maya, she's exceptionally smart, and her mother can no longer take care of her. Maya should grow up somewhere that will stimulate her intellect, support and encourage her, and so she has been left here at the bookstore for A.J. to care for.

A.J., who had never planned on being a father, initially decides to turn Maya over to the State for foster care and hopefully adoption. But after a few days spent in Maya's company waiting for a case worker to come out to Alice Island (and a lot of Googling things like "what to feed a 25-month-old") he changes his mind and Maya stays at Island Books. She is the catalyst for the many changes that take place on Alice Island. They are small at first, not even really quantifiable, but they initiate a change from "bookstore" to "book community" that is simple, beautiful, and utterly complete. A favorite quote from The Velveteen Rabbit comes to mind: "Once you are real, you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always."

Just as the entire community becomes linked with the bookstore, Maya links all of the main characters with one another. A.J.'s sister-in-law, her philandering author husband, the local police chief, Maya's mother, and a publishing rep who loves all things yellow all have different but immensely important roles to play in the story of A.J. and Maya's lives together. And author Zevin brings them together perfectly, drawing the lines that connect them at the perfect speed to reveal the connections between them at just the right times. But the new developments felt very organic as I read them, and instead of producing a sense of shock they made me think "ooh, that makes so much sense!" Even what happened to A.J. at the end of the book, which was thoroughly heartbreaking, happened in the most twistedly poetic way possible. I can't remember the last time a book really made me cry, but I was bawling my eyes out when I read the last few pages.

Initially I didn't understand A.J.'s little short story commentaries scattered between sections of the book. But as the symbolism of the short story format became clearer through the book's progress, and the entries became more personal, each one gained a wider context. The message that A.J. is struggling to communicate at the end is revealed to the reader, but we don't know if he was able to make Maya and Amy understand. We have to either assume that they never understood or that they knew A.J. well enough to perceive what he was trying to say even when he could no longer communicate it.

This is one of the most beautiful books I've ever read. The people and the plot make it that way, yes, but more than that it comes down to the way in which the story is put together. If you like Under the Tuscan Sun or The Silence of Bonaventure Arrow, or are passionate about books and reading communities, mark The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry by Gabrielle Zevin in BIG, BOLD LETTERS on your to-read list. It comes out in April, and you can pre-order it now at your neighborhood indie bookstore.