Annette Vallon - by James Tipton

Annette Vallon: A Novel of the French Revolution by James Tipton

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I read this book on my epic plane rides to and from Carlsbad, NM this last week. Sometimes the right book happens to fall into your hands at the right time, and I'd say this was definitely the case for this book.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I love a good historical novel at just about any time. And a historical novel set during the French Revolution? Practically irrestible. A novel based around the secret romance of Annette Vallon and the famous poet Wordsworth? Delicious.

I will say, however, that I was a little bit bad - and I am never, ever like this. I read about half of it on my way out on Monday, and I was so into it, I skimmed through the rest - especially the end, because I was kind of dying to know how it turned out. I was so bummed with the ending (I'll spare you the details!), that I almost didn't read the rest of it. I am so glad I did - the adventure basically started AFTER the die of her life had been cast. And it's a good lesson for us all - we don't always get what we want, but we can certainly make our lives amazing in spite of our disappointments.

I know, I sound so positive - it's... scary.

So, here are some of my favorite quotes from the book. I have decided to make myself take notes while I read this year so I have a better chance of remembering what I enjoyed - or the lessons I learned, or at least, so I have half a chance of discussing the book in the future.

p. 153 - "This is how William and the captain envision the Revolution, I thought, the man of aristocratic birth and the woman of peasant origins, sharing a wooden cup of wine. But such a vision only comes from the eyes of the truly good. It doesn't take into account the hatred and ambitions of men." -Annette

p. 445 - "Even a work about oneself is still a fiction, once one puts pen to paper, is it not?" he said. "What one chooses to say, what one chooses not to say, how one says it? It is all a fiction." -Wordsworth

p. 457 - Excerpt of a Wordsworth poem:

... those first affections,
Those shadowy reflections,
Which, be they what they may,
And yet a fountain of light of all out day...
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind.

p. 480 - "Things were the same in a place where they could not be touched by anything else, a place we knew to be true. And I understood that place to be where I was, now, and always.

I did not know if I would ever see William again, but I could hear his voice saying nothing had changed, and see his shining fifty-year-old eyes, and thought I truly knew what he meant now, and I suddenly laughed for the obvious joy and absurdity and sorrow of it all. Only the joy mattered now." - Annette