The cover of Dear Old Love.

by Linda Holmes

I love a nice surprise.

The title Dear Old Love: Anonymous Notes To Former Crushes, Sweethearts, Husbands, Wives & Ones That Got Away sounds like it can only refer to a maudlin collection of drippy love letters and hand-wringing and boo-hooing. I almost didn't read it. But I'm glad I did, because it turns out that it's entirely made up of one-shot gems like these:

I'll be waiting for you after your mild fame evaporates.

You like the club scene. I like to knit. You said that wouldn't matter. It did.

It's nice you went to therapy after we broke up. I wish you'd gone while we were still together.

The bits of the book were gathered as submissions to the web site DearOldLove.com, run by Andy Selsberg, who also wrote the book.

This project should probably be insufferable -- the self-indulgent Hallmark card of the Internet. But it isn't.

Staying clear of the potholes, after the jump.

There is a vividness to these little thoughts (Selsberg reserves the right to edit, so one suspects his hand is seen in the tone) that makes them quite stirring and recognizable -- Every time I drove you home, I prayed for traffic -- and elevates them considerably.

The book does a wonderful job of wrapping itself around the combination of anger and sadness and bitterness and warmth and regret that often accompanies thoughts of failed relationships. Consider something like this: The day you changed your Facebook status to "Engaged," I spent 40 minutes in the shower so my boyfriend wouldn't hear me crying. Yes, yes, Facebook is silly, Facebook status updates are silly. But leaving Facebook out of it, this combination of embarrassment and consideration of the boyfriend's feelings, rolled up with the gut-punch of finding out about the new relationship -- even when in one yourself! -- is nicely captured in that image.

But it's very, very important to stress that this book is also reliably funny. I giggled out loud a lot, turning page after page to little delights like, My love for you is like a mummy -- carefully preserved, with the brains yanked out. Come on now, that's just genius. Or this: I really did want to be a grandparent with you. It's just that getting to that point would have been an interminable slog.

I may have exaggerated my devotion to sports to win you, but my love of sitting, eating and watching things was genuine.

I think you came back because I asked you, not because you wanted to.

I still say you're an idiot for not falling in love with me.

How could you stand me? I'm glad you did, but I was such a jerk and poor dresser back then.

It's a rich little document, and it makes for a dizzyingly concentrated dose of humanity. I'd say it's the kind of book that would make a great gift, but of course, you will have to be extremely careful about the recipient.

categories: Books

11:15 - November 23, 2009

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