Notes from the Lost Property Department

​Author: Bridget Pitt
Publisher: Penguin
Reviewer: Nancy Richards
Isn’t it funny how books come to you. Bought, loaned, recommended…stolen (well…tell me you haven’t been tempted). Or gifted. The best, because the giver has thought - about this particular tile, and about you. But just before Christmas, at a writer’s group, we had a Secret Santa and everyone brought a copy of their book, anonymously wrapped. Well a book is a book, so there was no guessing, 

shaking or squeezing to identify the contents. But what a treat to get a book by a writer who you could not only ask to sign your copy, but get the back story first-hand – the unabridged pain and joy! Some of the group are old friends, some are newer acquaintances, so it was also a ‘getting to know you’ opportunity.
I was delighted to unwrap Bridget Pitt’s Notes from the Lost Property Department (Penguin) – primarily because of its irresistible cover. But secondly because she was in the ‘newer acquaintance’ category. And is it not so that a writer wears his/her heart on their sleeve when they write a novel. Their experience, their knowledge, their soul, style and humour are all laid bare for the reading.
The choice of subject matter already says something about the author – the manifestation of brain injury, through stroke or accident. In the acknowledgments she thanks survivors and their families for their testimonies. So we know she cares and has listened. We know that she is a hiker through her intimate knowledge of the Drakensberg, and an environmentalist through her descriptions of flora and fauna - I venture that not everyone knows what a lammergeyer is. It is clear she’s a thinker in the conversations she captures and that her background was filled with song and poetry for which she has both memory and nostalgia. She has a great deal of heart – I’d say it’s necessary to have ‘been there’ to write about the intensity of relationships, and overall it’s evident that she’s also a careful craftsman. The interwoven stories of ageing Grace who suffers a stroke, and of her daughter Iris who had a fall as a child, are delivered in ‘then and now’ chapters – 1972 and 2012 with the ultimate reveal coming only towards the end. It is a story, certainly of what’s lost, but also of what can be found. ​