Serendipity in The Wine Lover's Daughter

I've just completed a milestone. My last book discussion! For five years after  retirement I have continued to lead a wonderfully opinionated group of deep readers who frequent the South County Regional Library in Estero, Florida, in talks about the latest literature on the scene. In fact a friend who attended today reminded me that she had been at my first discussion twenty-five years ago! Often I have been a nervous wreck prior to the discussions but, oh, when they are over - what elation! What a sense of satisfaction.

It's just that I feel less and less able to make commitments a year in advance. Life is so fragile and so wondrous. What if someone asks me to take a last minute trip to France or Italy? Am I going to say no because I have a book discussion? I think not. But today, I went out in style with an astounding sixty-some participants all chatting about one of my favorite novels of all time, "A Gentleman in Moscow."

While reading and thinking about this remarkable book I often used the word "serendipity." How many times do you learn some trivial little fact from your reading, put it away in your noggin, and then suddenly see reference to it everywhere? I just love it when that happens. In this case it was a bottle of wine, a premier cru called Chateau d'Yquem. Count Rostov, the gentleman of the book title, fell in love over his first taste of this wine. And then I discovered that writer, reviewer, oenophile, and renowned radio personality Clifton Fadiman also fell in love over the same bottle!

Yes, I am dating myself, but I do remember Clifton Fadiman. He also was a judge for the Book of the Month club for many years, even after he lost his eyesight. And I remember reading all of Anne Fadiman's books and essays, enjoying the fact that she was editor of the Phi Beta Kappa quarterly "The American Scholar." Every year at budget time I had to fight to keep that one in the library!

Anne has recently completed a delightful memoir of her father and his life-long obsession with wine. And though she claims to detest the taste of wine herself - the lady may protest too much - she is in all ways "The Wine Lover's Daughter." Anne and her dad were very close and the love and respect she feels for him is palpable. Still she manages to be objective when speaking about this man who was a product of his times, a time when a woman's opinion or career took a back seat to the man's. Anne's mother had an amazing career as a war correspondent and journalist before marrying Fadiman - http://nyti.ms/2FIpc8P - but quietly took on the role of wife and mother afterward.

Fadiman also examines her father's unhealthy insecurities about being a Jewish man in the WASP world of books and publishing. In the '30's and '40's there was a quota for graduate school seats and though Fadiman had graduated from Columbia Phi Beta Kappa himself, he struggled with money and self esteem. Anne believes that his infatuation with wine collecting was a way for her father to boost his sense of self-worth, to indicate to society that he had "made it." And he did truly become known as one of the finest hosts and raconteurs between California and New York.

The elder Fadimans chose to end their days right here on Captiva and Sanibel Islands. This is where Clifton lost his eyesight and would have despaired if it hadn't been for the Lee County Library System's Talking Books library and their partnership with the Visually Impaired Persons of Southwest Florida. I was so pleased and proud that Ms. Fadiman chose to devote several chapters to her father's new lease on life after joining this wonderful group where he was treated like a VIP and made lasting friendships. I remember hearing Fadiman's name mentioned as one of our patrons when I first began work for the library system. Reading this memoir brought the last twenty-five years full circle.

If you're a reader, a history buff, or a wine lover you'll be especially enamored of this small but informative memoir.