I had no idea that Dear Mrs. Bird is part of a three-book series called The Emmy Lake Chronicles. Now that I do, I am glad I did not end up reading them out of order. Thank you, AJ Pearce, for continuing Emmy’s well-deserved story. I cannot wait to read books two and three.

            I chose this book because the story follows the evolution and growth of not only an individual, Emmy our protagonist, but also of a friendship, between Emmy and Bunty. Hopefully, each of us has a person in our lives whose thoughts we can narrate simply by watching and listening to them. Bunty and Emmy serve that role in each other’s lives.

The dialog is from chapter 10, when Emmy and Bunty meet Captain Charles Mayhew for the first time when they run into Mr. Collins at a crowded café and are invited by the gentlemen to join them at their table. The story is narrated by Emmy. Dialog from the book is in italics followed by my thoughts. Enjoy!

            “We have been walking,” I confirmed. “We’ve had a look at the bookshop that isn’t there now, and before that we threw bread at the ducks. Bunty managed to hit one,” I added, which made it sound as if we had been doing it on purpose.

            “Actually it was two. I wasn’t even trying,” said Bunty, attempting to rescue things but making it worse.

            It’s not difficult to see why these two are best friends. The choice of words is clever. Instead of “we fed the ducks. Bunty managed to hit one,” which may cause confusion for the reader on the intention, the words “threw bread at” set us up perfectly for the potential misunderstanding. Bunty piling on to say “I wasn’t even trying” was further set up well by Emmy’s previous choice of words. One wouldn’t work without the other. Let’s see what follows.

            “Right,” said Captain Mayhew desperately. “That’s, um…”

            “One of the milder blood sports,” said Mr. Collins.

            Bunty motored on.

            “Really,” she said. “It was only the crusts that would have hurt them and we’d eaten most of those on the way.”

            “We didn’t have lunch,” I said.

            This is where the fun begins for me. Emmy narrates that Bunty was making things worse and “motored on” when Emmy herself does not help by saying “We didn’t have lunch” to a gentleman who, moments ago, she was mortified to run into. The gentlemen are clearly at a loss for the appropriate response to the story, which the girls do not notice. It’s World War II, London is being bombed by Germany, and people are starving. Pearce uses the characters to give us a chuckle at tragic circumstances while, at the same time, appreciating the gravity of the situation.

            “Good God,” said Mr. Collins, flagging down the nearest member of staff. “Waitress, could you please double up on our order with some urgency, if you would? Thank you. My treat.”

            He gave Bunty a look that suggested he thought she was about to start rooting around in a dustbin for food.

            “Oh, how terribly kind,” she said with the most enormous dignity and giving him her loveliest smile. “They were only very small crusts.”

            This last line makes me laugh each time I read it and, while writing this blog, I read it many times. As a writer, I hope to master this one day. First, Pearce sets you up by ensuring you that Mr. Collins is convinced the ladies are starving. Then she tops it with a cherry of guilt in a way that only gets funnier with each line. Like a pro, though, Pearce knows when to stop.

            I turned to Captain Mayhew, feeling I should apologize. But before I could say anything, I realized he was trying terribly hard not to laugh.

            “I’m so sorry,” he said, failing and letting out a guffaw. “But this is like having tea with Flanagan and Allen doing one of their skits. Not to look at, of course. Oh dear, that’s come out wrong.” He stopped abruptly and looked horrified at himself.

            “Do forgive me,” he said, blushing. “I just meant that you’ve really cheered me up. My regiment has had a bit of a time of it and poor Guy has been saddled with a misery guts all day.”

            They say humor is subjective. The evidence is clear. Mr. Collins, or Guy, significantly older than the others in this scene, is horrified at the girls’ state of starvation. Captain Mayhew, on the other hand, is on a break from the frontline and finds the interaction utterly hilarious. Again, the characters give the reader permission to laugh along while appreciating the situation.

            “Don’t worry, Captain Mayhew,” I said, thinking how decent he seemed. “You must think we never get out.”

            “Not for a moment,” he said. “Though please call me Charles.”

            “All right, Charles,” I said, feeling reckless. “And please call me Emmy. Shall we start again?”

            “Let’s,” said Charles and Bunty at the same time.

            “Do we have to?” said Mr. Collins. “I’m not sure I can face the story about the duck for a second time. Oh thank God, here’s the waitress.”

            When I first read the last lines by Mr. Collins, I thought there was also something in there about him rubbing his forehead or running a hand through his hair. Then I re-read the lines and realized I had imagined the whole thing. In real time. That’s the power of good, no GREAT, dialog. You don’t have to stop reading and look up from the book to imagine the scene. The dialog pulls you right in with the characters as though you are acting out the scene with them. I look forward to reading book two in the series and learning more from AJ Pearce.

Citation: Pearce, AJ. (2018). Dear Mrs. Bird. Scribner.