Gillian Tindall’s engrossing, lovely book tells the story of a village—Chassignoles, in Berry, a traditional province in the heart of France—with remarkable intuition, sympathy, and eloquence. Herself a householder in Chassignoles, Tindall there came upon a cache of letters dating from the 1860s addressed to Célestine Chaumette (1844–1933), the village innkeeper’s daughter. The letters—saved by Célestine throughout her long life—were by different hands, and pressed the marriage proposals of a number of ardent but ultimately unsuccessful suitors. Intrigued by the letters and their recipient, Tindall employed her wiles as both historian and novelist to flesh out the history they intimated. The resulting volume not only remembers the life of Célestine, but movingly reveals the unrecorded destiny of Chassignoles as well, evoking the fate of thousands of places like it—places that house, within the silence of their modern aspects, the spirits of a vanished past.
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