4.5 stars
Brilliant, evocative, and tragic (but not without redemption), The Last Letter from Your Lover is as good as Moyes' Me Before You. I started sobbing 90 percent in and haven't yet stopped. I'm a bloody mess; rarely does a book offer such catharsis.
The book begins in 1960s London. Two people meet: The aloof, beautiful, polished Jennifer is married to Laurence, a successful, detached, casually cruel businessman who manages various mines in Africa. Anthony is a journalist, divorced, a heavy drinker, a mournful, impetuous man. He's not Jenny's type, much too volatile, not settled or grounded, and certainly without riches and social status. But Jennifer and Anthony feel a connection nonetheless, even though theirs is a love not meant to be...not then, not without missed opportunities and the drudgery of pain and loss.
Fast-forward 40-some years to London, 2003. Thirty-two-year-old Ellie is forging a love affair of her own. Her lover, John, is married with two young children and in no hurry to leave his wife. But Ellie has hope. Wrapped up in John, forgetting her own life, including her career as a journalist, Ellie doesn't see what's right in front of her, until she stumbles on a letter, the letter of the title: a handwritten love letter spanning decades. Obsessed with what she reads and what it means, Ellie seeks to find out more about a story that's perversely right in front of her.
Is there a happy ending here? That depends. Happiness isn't always what we imagine it to be. Sometimes it's about ourselves, our own convictions, doing what's right by our child, finding our own path, writing our own story, righting wrongs we had no way of preventing. Sometimes it's about a lonely man in a library, a guy who takes you ice-skating and makes you laugh, a post office box...open for 40 years. Sometimes it's about saying sorry, and words in a letter, gathering dust.