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39 pages 1 hour read

Ruth Hogan

The Keeper of Lost Things

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 2017

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Chapters 1-14 Chapter Summaries & Analyses

Chapters 1-14 Summary

The dapper, 68-year-old Anthony Peardew, after riding a local London train from Brighton, arrives at his rambling Victorian home in the center of the city. The home, which he calls Padua after St. Anthony of Padua, the patron saint of lost things, is his sanctuary. A reclusive semi-retired writer, Anthony lives alone. His study is packed with hundreds of lost items, dropped unintentionally, that he has found all over London. For more than 40 years, Anthony has dedicated his life to gathering these items and carefully tagging them in the hopes of returning them someday to their owners. Today he found a cookie tin left on the train. When he opens it, he finds that it appears to contain cremains. He fixes himself his usual gin and lime and puts on his favorite record, Al Bowlly’s classic recording of “The Very Thought of You,” a song that reminds him of Therese, the love of his life, who was killed in a car accident some 40 years earlier just days before they were to be married.

Over the last six years, Anthony has come to rely on Laura, his housekeeper and personal assistant, along with Freddy, the gardener, to run the day-to-day operations of Padua. He has never told Laura about his collection of lost things or even allowed her into the study. Six years earlier, when Laura answered his ad, she was drifting, depressed and self-medicating with prescription drugs. At 35, she had just divorced an abusive husband, Vince, a used car salesman she finally left after his repeated affairs and his escalating threats of violence following the couple’s miscarriage. Laura now loves the Victorian atmosphere of Padua, and she has come to love the “gentle strength, tranquil manner, and immaculate urbanity” of Anthony himself (6). Laura once dreamed of being a writer and even tried writing a novel years earlier, but it was rejected by a round of publishers. She wonders now whether “she had engineered her own failures” (21)—her life of frustration, disappointments, and lost opportunities.

The narrative shifts to 1974. Eunice, in her twenties, responds to an ad for a secretarial position at a small but reputable London publishing house. At the interview, she falls under the spell of the charismatic publisher, Charles Brockley, who calls himself Bomber after the stylish jackets worn by the Allied POWs in The Great Escape. Eunice, a cinephile, immediately responds to the allusion. The two chat at length, and Bomber offers her the job. As an editor, Bomber reads only manuscripts that intrigue him; among them currently is a collection of eccentric short stories entitled Lost and Found by an unknown London writer named Anthony Peardew. On the way out, feeling lucky, Eunice picks up a small religious medallion someone dropped in the street, not noticing that a car accident has happened across the street. Over the next several years, a friendship develops between Eunice and Bomber, shaped in large part by their love of movies and by their mutual dislike of Bomber’s overbearing sister, Portia, an aspiring writer of “bloody awful” romances. Bomber is certain his sister was spoiled long ago by being given access to an immense trust fund set up by their great-aunt.

The narrative then rejoins Anthony. Finding the cremains on the Brighton train reminds Anthony of his own advanced years. He senses the approach of death, which he terms his “leaving.” For him, death will be the chance to reunite at last with Therese. He has never forgotten her. He recalls how he planted Padua’s rose garden for her just months after they met. She was named for St. Therese of the Roses. When he showed her the garden, she was overwhelmed by the gesture. In gratitude, she gave him her First Communion medallion, her most precious keepsake, but he lost the medallion in the confusion after the car accident.

Anthony has shared with Laura his vivid memory of the day Therese was killed. That sharing “forged an intimacy” between the two (41). Now, Anthony worries over his vast collection of lost things. Over the years, the objects have served as subjects of the quirky Chekhovian stories he published, which found a small but enthusiastic following. Now, feeling death near, Anthony visits his solicitor and settles his estate, naming an unsuspecting Laura as his sole heir. That night, Anthony walks out to Padua’s rose garden. He remembers Therese and her lost Communion medallion and how that loss directed him to devote his life to returning lost objects. He lies down in the grass and slips into death. Laura finds him the following morning.

A shocked Laura is apprised of her inheritance in a long letter Anthony leaves behind. In it, he explains that Padua is now her home, but he details a particular codicil: She is to take over the work of returning the lost objects. He makes a mysterious reference to his own dedication to lost things and an object that he himself regrets losing. Now proprietor of Padua, Laura for the first time enters the study where Anthony kept all the pieces, with shelves and drawers lined with tagged objects. She is staggered by the responsibility.

She works her way among the objects, such as a cheap plastic hair clip. We are given its story: A young nerdy girl, relentlessly picked on in school, drops the clip in the grass after at last, with the encouragement of her mother, conquering her fear of climbing a huge tree. We are given another story about a single piece of a jigsaw puzzle: An elderly spinster, compelled to take in a sister she never liked after the woman’s husband dies, exacts a small kind of impish satisfaction by removing a single piece of a massive jigsaw puzzle her sister toils over, ensuring she will never finish it. A tiny ruby gemstone becomes the centerpiece of a story about a grandmother who intensely dislikes the wealthy man her beloved granddaughter was marrying. During the garden ceremony, the ruby from the ring the man foists on the bride (the girl wanted to use her mother’s far more modest wedding ring) drops out, lost forever in the grass.

Among all these neatly tagged objects, Laura finds an old key she thinks will unlock the upstairs bedroom never used since Therese’s death. The next morning, after Laura spends her first night in Padua, she meets Sunshine, an energetic neighborhood teenager with Down syndrome who cheerily introduces herself as Laura’s new best friend. 

Chapters 1-14 Analysis

These opening chapters focus on two related ideas: the impact of time, specifically the heavy burden of the past, and the expansive reach of the grasping imagination.

For widely different reasons, time has stopped for both Laura and Anthony. Their emotional lives—their hearts—have stopped. Both drift within the present, each day to be endured rather than lived. One of the daily jobs to which Laura attends as part of her housekeeping duties is to wind the blue enameled clock in Anthony’s bedroom. Every morning the clock stops exactly at 11:55, the time at which Therese died 40 years earlier. Within the haunted, shadowy ambience of Padua, the mysterious coincidence raises no eyebrows. Laura dutifully winds the clock every morning.

The clock suggests the non-life that Laura and Anthony both live, as neither live fully in the moment because they are unable to manage the weight of the past. Anthony’s life stopped with the sudden death of Therese; Laura’s life stopped after her miscarriage and then the swift, painful collapse of her marriage. Now both merely exist in the present. They do not feel alive; they are like the dusty clock that needs perpetual rewinding. Anthony spends his days busily gathering lost objects he finds in the streets against the unlikely event of ever finding their owners. The loss of Therese and specifically the loss of her Communion medallion denies him the ability to live fully in the moment. He is tangled within the past. When late in this section he accepts death and lies down under the stars in the rose garden, he does so with relief.

If Anthony is released from the past only in his death, Laura, in the months after Anthony’s death, will be redeemed from her past and given a chance to live again. Laura comes to embrace possibilities, but in these opening chapters, she is shattered—she finds Padua a sanctuary for hiding in, a “safe place to heal” (42). When Anthony dies, Laura’s initial reaction is panic. Without the enclosing security of Padua, she will be lost, a “broken person” not strong enough “to face the world again” (42). For six years she has used the elaborate refuge of Padua to avoid re-engaging life. She has no family or friends; she steadily denies her attraction to the strapping gardener Freddy—he is “tall and dark, but not so handsome as to be a cliché” (p. 9)—certain that pursuing any relationship beyond their job would be a catastrophe. She is too bound by her past, certain, because of Vince’s infidelities, that she is unlovable, and certain that she will never know love. In these chapters, Laura and Anthony are both little more than stopped clocks.

In addition to suggesting the characters’ need for emotional rescue from their own past, these opening chapters assert the rich power of the imagination in the lives of these same lonely misfits. Stories and storytellers are everywhere in this section. Writing is the loneliest of occupations, perfect for the characters here bent on embracing the non-life of self-imposed isolation, and yet the imagination represents a way out of that isolation. Key to the expansive energy of the imagination are the objects that Anthony collects. By themselves, on his shelves, they are lifeless artifacts, forgotten, dusty, and lost, but within the rich imagination of first Anthony and later Laura, these lost things became occasions for stories—a way for a misfit writer to move beyond the lonely prison of the self. The stories are not offered as part of the narrative present storyline. They are set apart, rendered in italics, like elaborate and deliberate interludes. The characters in the stories have nothing to do with Laura or Anthony or life in Padua.

These opening chapters provide several of these stories. The author of the stories is never made clear. It could be Anthony, but they may also be the work of Laura, who takes up her writing after Anthony’s death, as the tales reflect stories Laura was told after Anthony’s death. In either case, the stories represent strategies for the centrifugal pull of the imagination. They give Anthony and Laura a way out and away from themselves, out into the world. These stories are not confessional, and they are not stories that draw on either Anthony or Laura’s life. The lost things are not even their lost objects. The stories are pure imaginative leaps into the sorrows and joys of others, that, in contrast to the tacky recycled plots of Bomber’s sister, represent empathetic engagement. 

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