Lindsay Zier-Vogel’s Letters to Amelia is perhaps my most anticipated novel of the year. A beautiful exploration of the shifting identity of its protagonist, Grace Porter, as she navigates both the prospect of motherhood and a work project focussing on the secret letters of aviation pioneer Amelia Earhart, Letters to Amelia is full of gorgeous imagery that will leave your heart feeling full.
In late 2017, I had the absolute joy of interviewing Lindsay Zier-Vogel as part of my MA in Creative Writing at The University of Nottingham. At the time, the novel was in the works and I couldn’t wait to see what it finally became. I had never known about a book prior to it’s publication before, so to finally hold it in my hands and uncover its secrets this year was very exciting.
Letters To Amelia follows Grace, a thirty-something year old woman, whose long-term boyfriend, Jamie, has just left her after declaring that he doesn’t love her any more. Grace works at the Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library in Toronto and is approached by her manager to handle a secret project. Letters from Amelia Earhart to her lover Gene Vidal have been discovered, and Grace is tasked with reading and logging them so that they can be turned into an exhibition, something huge that will put the library on the map. When Grace discovers that she’s pregnant and facing the pressures of unexpected motherhood, she throws herself into her work and finds solace in Earhart, in her letters, and in the rumour that she may herself have had an unexpected, secret pregnancy.
Grace starts the novel as someone with a limited knowledge of Amelia which works in the book’s favour, as we are taken along on Grace’s odyssey. She visits Trepassey, Newfoundland, where Earhart began her first transatlantic flight as a passenger aboard the Friendship; Harbour Grace, where Earhart began her first solo transatlantic flight; and later the Smithsonian where Earhart’s Lockheed Vega is now housed. This narrative structure, combined with the letters from Amelia to Gene, allows us to understand Earhart beyond her disappearance, to truly discover her as a person.
Alongside Grace, I learned so much about Earhart. That she was once a social worker in Boston, working with Syrian and Chinese refugees; that she had been a nurse during World War One in Toronto, and that as a result of the flu epidemic at the time, she experienced sinus issues. That she had her own fashion line, with garments made from parachute silk, where bolts were used instead of buttons.
In her letters, Zier-Vogel’s Amelia meditates on the social constraints she faces as a woman, with her thoughts ranging from the expectation for women to marry, to the concerns of others about her ability to fly because of her gender. She revisits memories from her childhood, or reminisces on a perfect weekend with Gene, making plans for another, often including some detail about the outdoors, always observant of the weather. We come to see Earhart as bold and daring, big-hearted, and unafraid of speaking her mind.
It is this version of Amelia that Grace is inspired to write unmailed letters to, seeking connection and catharsis; that encourages Grace to become stronger, more self-assured and brave. Not the disappeared Amelia, the geographical enigma.
The book addresses the intrigue that surrounds Earhart’s disappearance towards the end of the novel, observing an excavation trip charted for the atoll Nikumaroro, which is allowing wealthy tourists to come and dig alongside professionals in the search for Earhart’s remains—something that deeply offends Grace. In many ways, the book makes the case that this isn’t the way to truly find Amelia Earhart; her spirit cannot be seen, her warmth and wisdom cannot be understood in the unearthing and dusting of bones.
Grace is a very endearing and relatable protagonist, finding herself amidst the ruins of her old life and learning to forge ahead with the new. She deals with her situation through order and categorisation, through the small things she can control, like the reading and archiving of Amelia’s letters, or the email subscription service that tells her the size of her growing baby in relation to a fruit (from cherry to avocado to mango and so on). Yet throughout the novel, Amelia inspires Grace to embrace not just her new role as a mother, but the more spontaneous and bright qualities of herself.
Just as Grace perhaps feels that she could be a bit more like Amelia, I think we could all be a bit more like Grace: willing to learn and explore new passions, casting off the old habits and patterns that no longer serve us. We should strive to be brave enough to venture out alone and seek out happiness, and to be in touch with our most private selves.
Letters to Amelia is a beautiful journey that charts the course of two women’s lives, delving into the impact the past can have on the future, the comfort and inspiration we can uncover when we look back and find some sense of kinship. It reminds us to take time for and invest in ourselves, to nurture our curiosity. I highly recommend this book to all, but especially to those looking to rediscover their passions or make sense of a new phase of life (and of course to those with a love of letters!).
Until next time,
Lizzie
THE THING WITH FEATHERS 