If you imagine a story that combines Elizabeth Bennett’s height of wit, Jo March’s flair for the dramatic, and Anne of Green Gables’ creative mind, tendency toward mishap, and unique community, you’ll begin to understand why I’ve been so delighted by Beth Brower’s series The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion.  

My sister gave me the first two volumes for Christmas, and I started the first one during my June trip to Maine when I would see her. (Moral of the story: if you want me to read a book, take me camping in Maine.) Alas, I lost Emma partway through the trip, which led me to start The Thursday Murder Club from my sister-in-law.

Fortunately, when I got home, I found Emma hiding in my backpack in that secret pocket (why did I ever put the pretty green paperback there?). I finished Volume 1 and read Volume 2 shortly thereafter. And then proceeded to listen to Volume 3 and Volume 4 on audiobook. I’m currently on Volume 5–with a massive shoutout to narrator Genevieve Gaunt. I plan to finish the series, and would love to collect all the paperbacks for my bookshelf. As my sister promised, I cannot get enough of Emma M. Lion and her 1880s London adventures (or misadventures, as they often are).

One of the elements that make The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion so charming is its humor. Reading the first two volumes, I hadn’t laughed out loud so much at a book in a long time. Possibly ever. The writing style (i.e., Emma’s personality and commentary as she journals), the wit of the characters, and the quirkiest-possible-scenario events made me laugh again and again in a fresh, delightful way that was good for my soul.

But the charm isn’t just at the surface; it lives in every nook and cranny of the odd but close community of St. Crispian’s as well. Each volume introduces a new tradition, a new character, a new place, or new part of its history that makes St. Crispian’s the quirkiest neighborhood I’ve ever read. From house names to Guy Fawkes celebrations, from the traveling artist to the non-speaking banker’s wife, the streets, shops, and homes of St. Crispian’s ring with the least expected (and often most hilarious) stories. I’m beginning to believe one series isn’t enough to do justice to this remarkable area. (Good news: I hear the author has extra stories about the characters on Substack.)

And speaking of characters—therein lies the truest charm of this series. I despise old Archibald Flat but feel sorry for him. I cheer for Emma’s stiff upper lip and positive creativity yet ache for everything she’s been through. I look forward to the next “my mother says” from sweet little Agnes and wonder if there may not be a redemptive quality for Parian somewhere. Hawkes is a mystery (will we ever see past his cool demeanor?). I want an Islington, Duke of, for myself, purely for amusement. Saffronia and Mary are true friends, along with Cousin Arabella.

Aunt Eugenia reminds me of the worst of Aunt Catherine from Pride and Prejudice and Aunt March from Little Women (what’s with these rich old aunts?) yet with the hidden soft underbelly of Aunt Josephine from Anne of Green Gables. As for Pierce, the “argumentative photographer” (Vol. 5) . . . he is the best of Mr. Darcy and Laurie and Mr. Bhaer and Gilbert, with a dash more realism and plenty more secrets to make him as human as everyone else in St. Crispian’s. (While nearly every male character seems like a potential beau for Emma, I ship her and Pierce all the way across the Atlantic and back.)

These books speak volumes (pun intended) about friendship, community, and how much we need them both in the good times and the hard times of life. Embedded in this community is the theme of overcoming hardship, and not by oneself. Emma in particular has faced a great many hardships, yet since her return to St. Crispian’s at the beginning of Volume 1, she finds herself not just picking up the threads of old friendships but also adding the threads of new friendships, weaving a pattern of community that in ways both expected and unexpected holds her up through her challenges. I wish I could remember the quote—and which friend said it—that labeled Emma’s friend group as a form of alchemy. It stuck with me, because it’s true, and I’ve seen it in my life as well.

Oh, and we can’t forget one of the brightest glimmers of charm from The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion: a heroine in the style of Lizzie, and Jo, and Anne, and Belle, and many other literary predecessors, who adores books, treasures the written word in any form (and any language), and considers marrying a man for his library. Plus, the occasional asides about writers are a fun poke to those of us who enjoy penning words as well as reading them.

Overall, I highly recommend Beth Brower’s The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion to an audience as varied as my sister’s circle of influence: her husband (not a reader) has read at least one of the volumes, her boys aged 7 and 9 love the audiobooks, and she’s circulating four copies through her church.  

It’s not hard to see why these books appeal so widely and so profoundly. They’re not just tales of high-society balls and mid-society neighborhoods, or narratives of wit and humor; they’re stories about humanity, men and women alike, and the fragile lives we all live in both beauty and brokenness.

I’m remarkably invested in Emma’s life and can’t wait to keep reading. Though I have a feeling the books in this series are going to run out all too soon . . . Long Live Lion and her delightful journals!