Aimee Reviews~ Still Life by Sarah Winman
How does one begin to express their love for a 450 page tome of a novel, spanning four decades, and crossing entire countries?
Florence, 1944. A young wandering and sincere soldier, Ulysses Temper, happens upon a chance meeting with the enigmatic and vibrant, 64 year old art historian Evelyn Skinner. Then, then part ways, and as they war ends, Ulysses must return to London to his old life. In this chance meeting, unbeknownst to the unlikely duo of kindred spirits, their lives are altered for many years to come.
Still Life is a generous and heartfelt story about people, and quite a few of them at that: Ulysses, Cressy, Peg, Kid, Col, Pete, and Kid just to name but a few. The dialogue is casual and conversational, one particular moment springs to mind where a child is told Napoleon was a man with many fingers in many pies. There is so much pathos, movement, and life to these characters – you will surely recognise quirks of character within some from people in your own life. These characters are so believable and truthfully portrayed that the reader becomes another seat at the table, laughing and talking over a grappa and freshly cooked pasta.
The language and nuance to the prose is simply exquisite. Winman is a phenomenal writer, and this is not my first of her work, but by far my favourite. It is a truly compelling read – “I will stop after this next page!” - but remains tender and moving. Throughout the novel, the characters take pause to watch the swifts migrations, coming and going as the characters do in their own lives. The prose becomes poetic and artful, encouraging the reader to take a breath of Florentine air, and absorb the beauty around them and on the page.
“Beautiful art opens our eyes to the beauty of the world, Ulysses. It repositions our sight and judgment.”
Set in the sun-drenched (and sometimes just...drenched) streets of Florence, this is the perfect holiday read. We follow the lives of an ensemble of interlinked characters, grow to love them as family, despair when they despair, and love when they love. Meander through their lives, take a seat on the terrace of their rich and poetic tale. You won’t regret it.