It’s bittersweet to turn the final page of Maeve Binchy’s, “Chestnut Street” novel, knowing that it’s probably the last original set of Binchy stories and characters. For those of us who have loved and looked forward to her work, we at least have her many past novels and collections to re-read through the years. Her voice is distinctive, her prose simple, she is kind to her characters and forgiving to their very real and recognizable all-too-human foibles. She will live forever through these cherished characters, these old and young, irascible and sweet, kind, quirky, benevolent and malevolent Irish, Spanish, Greek, and Irish-Americans.
“Chestnut Street” is one of Binchy’s trade-mark compilations of character studies all set on one particular street (a horseshoe-shaped neighborhood with 30 houses) in Dublin across several decades. They read almost as fables, often with a “moral”. Binchy, in just a few pages, can completely convey character, action, emotion and wisdom. While she presents an enchanting view of Ireland, she never shies away from the harsh realities of life; unfaithful spouses, abuse, disappointing children, even recalcitrant criminals. Her stories often end with an unexpected twist; sometimes happy, sometimes bittersweet.
Readers need to be satisfied with each contained story, because Binchy rarely circles back around to any, and then only peripherally. I would have loved to know more about several characters, like aloof model, Joyce, and rotund actor, Norman; I’ll have to use my imagination to find a happy ending for those two!
Rest In Peace, Maeve, knowing that you brought much joy to many.