Bookworm, Issue 33

The Book: The Correspondent by Virginia Evans

In The Correspondent author Virginia Evans probes the complexities of the human heart using only written letters from and to septuagenarian protagonist Sybil Van Antwerp. Sybil is independent, intelligent, delightfully full of surprises, and willing to pen a piece of her mind to anyone. But in between the lines is a woman confronting her fears and uncovering how to feel whole.

Evans masterfully employs the lost art of letter-writing to unveil the richness of Sybil’s character and the fullness of her long life. The novel is wise, witty, and warm. Each letter introduces another piece of Sybil’s story resulting in a page-turning novel about aging, compassion, and human connection.

Given the popularity of electronic communication today, handwritten letters feel special to me. So while Sybil’s mail is not my own, the letters she writes and receives are a joy to read. I’m pairing this book with a wine that I anticipate opening like a letter from a long-time friend. A single-varietal, red wine worth savoring and made with the same care that Sybil applies to her letters.

Sybil lives alone near Annapolis, Maryland, and maintains a disciplined letter-writing routine. She is a mother and grandmother, divorced many years ago and retired from a prestigious legal career. She writes because “reaching out in correspondence is really one of the original forms of civility in the world, the preservation of which has to be of some value we cannot yet see.”

While Sybil is set in her ways, her life is far from boring. She corresponds with an unusual array of people; and Evans uses these relationships to help define Sybil’s character. Sybil has a years-long correspondence with the troubled son of a former colleague, and after a rocky start, she develops a friendship with a Syrian refugee who works in customer service. She enjoys writing to well-known authors whose books have moved her in some way, including Joan Didion, Ann Patchett, and Larry McMurtry. And she somewhat reluctantly corresponds with two male suitors.

When Sybil explains, “the letters amount to who I am,” Evans draws us closer to her character and to her pain, triumphs, mistakes, and attempts to make amends. Sybil’s letters are infused with feeling; on occasion opinionated, feisty, and funny, but also introspective, tender, and remorseful. The characters in the novel experience relatable hardship – broken relationships, declining health, the burden of caregiving, underemployment, and bullying. And Sybil herself carries deep grief; but rather than overwhelm, this adversity serves to anchor the story in the real world.

Near the end of the book, Sybil writes, “I am an old woman and my life has been some strange balance of miraculous and mundane.” She attempts to make sense of it all in her letters, “a never-ending circuit of curiosity and learning” and a collection of shared fears and dreams. To write a letter is to invite connection. A simple act that can profoundly, sometimes unexpectedly, change the trajectory of our lives and transform how we see ourselves and others.

The Wine: Nicole et Romain Chanrion, Domaine de la Voûte des Crozes, Côte de Brouilly, 2022, Beaujolais, France $29.99

Joyfully drinkable, yet inviting rumination. This wine evolves gracefully in the glass as aromas of fruit and flowers give way to earth and spice. Ripe strawberry and jammy raspberry, roses after a rain, wet leaves, leather, nutmeg, cinnamon, cracked peppercorns, and orange-infused caramel. Pronounced intensity on the palate, with tart cranberry and fresh blackberry flavors contributing additional complexity. Lively acidity, fine-grained medium tannins, 14% ABV, and a long, spicy finish. Irresistibly easy-drinking, but with the energy and elegance to merit meditation.

100% Gamay from the Côte de Brouilly appellation, one of Beaujolais’ ten crus. Vines grow in blue schist and volcanic soils on the hillside of Mount Brouilly, an ancient volcano. Here, the slopes, soils, and drainage are responsible for wines with structure and potential to age. Nicole and Romain Chanrion hand harvest their grapes. Whole clusters are fermented with native yeast in stainless steel and undergo full carbonic maceration. The wine is then aged in large oak casks for at least nine months before bottling unfiltered.

Why the pairing works:

Both The Correspondent and Nicole Chanrion’s Côte de Brouilly are hard to put down – each is delightfully charming but with more depth than one might first expect. The wine is a lively and layered bottle from Beaujolais, a region known for youthful, fruity red wines. As for the novel, a seemingly straightforward story about a woman in her 70s turns out to contain remarkable emotional complexity.

France’s Beaujolais wine region lies just south of Burgundy, home of the Côte d’Or and some of the world’s most expressive (and expensive) wines made from Pinot Noir and Chardonnay. On the other hand, Beaujolais has a global reputation for simple, playful wines made from Gamay Noir à Jus Blanc and released each November just months after harvest. Despite Beaujolais Nouveau’s popularity, the region does produce terroir-driven, quality wine, most notably in the ten crus (of which Côte de Brouilly is one), which are experiencing a renaissance.

The crus are located in Beaujolais’ hilly north where soil mapping reveals considerable diversity, including granite, schist, a volcanic soil called tuff, quartz, sandstone, and limestone. As a result, the wines from each cru have vastly different personalities – some floral and delicate, others savory and rich – but all exhibit more serious structure and potential to cellar.

Many of the producers in the crus put the same care and attention into their wines that Sybil puts into her letters. They value quality over quantity. Organic farming is common, as is minimal sulfur usage and aging in large oak foudres.

The female winemaker responsible for our Côte de Brouilly shares some traits with our novel’s protagonist, too. Like Sybil, vigneronne Nicole Chanrion is independent and determined. When she began her career in the 1970s, working in the vineyards and in the cellar was considered “man’s work.” But nonetheless, Chanrion persevered and took over her family’s domain in 1988. She earned the respect of her peers, who call her La Patronne de la Côte, the Boss of la Côte. Today, she continues to make wine, now with help from her son Romain.

Read more about Nicole Chanrion and her wine, and see some photographs of her at work, on importer Kermit Lynch’s website.