A Fascinating Book Filled with Stories and History

The Library of Lost Dollhouses by Elise Hooper turned out to be an amazing and fascinating book filled with stories and history spanning a century, artfully woven together. The narrative, like a large plane heavy laden with archeological finds and treasures, taxied down the runway, slowly increasing its speed until liftoff was achieved. Once it was airborne, I didn’t want to set it down, and the only things that distracted from the story were watching the end of the FSU vs UVA game, and a few hours of Ryder Cup play! The book has dual but related characters and storylines that range from early through late 20th century to present day. As the alternating narratives unfold, a great deal of history from those time periods is shared, including wars, the changing roles of women, art and the crafting of miniatures, living authentic lives, love stories, and learning the truth about family secrets. 

Author Elise Hopper writes, “Until the dollhouse maker delved into the world of keeping other women’s secrets, she had no idea there were so many possibilities: women write books and articles and publish them under men’s names; they print and distribute subversive newspapers anonymously; they covertly offer illicit medical services to those in need; they bear children they cannot claim as their own; they spend years developing inventions, only to have them stolen by men. The dollhouse maker documents all this—accomplishments, betrayals, and forbidden passions—in her miniatures.” It’s also a book about men, how crafting miniatures made a difference in the recovery and reintegration of soldiers grappling with war injuries, and “shell shock”(PTSD during WWI). 

Tildy Barrows, a present day librarian in an historic but struggling San Francisco area library, the Belva Curtis LeFarge Library (Bel for short), makes a stunning discovery. She was inside a storage closet on the top floor organizing vintage gowns and accessories that belonged to the library’s founder when a metallic glimmer from behind the clothing caught her attention. She spots a latch, ”Tildy reached out, tracing her index finger along the crack, and when she stepped closer for a better look she realized the crack was actually a doorway.” When the doorway is opened, two dollhouses are discovered linked to the library’s founder, meticulously and artistically crafted with many miniatures filling its rooms. In the largest dollhouse, four stories high and containing 30 rooms, one room in particular gets her attention: “Tildy’s gaze traveled to another small framed picture next to Belva’s bed. As Tildy stared at the familiar piece, she felt the blood drain from her face. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. In a room filled with surprises, nothing had prepared her for this discovery. Her legs suddenly went rubbery. The girl in the picture was Tildy’s dead mother.” She is determined to seek out answers related to why the dollhouses are hidden, their histories, whether there are other such dollhouses, and find out what her Mother had to do with it. It is her journey of discovery that propels the book forward, while the alternating historic narratives give it context. 

Both Cora Hale and Tildy experience a transformation as a result of their journeys. Cora, the artist who designed the dollhouses describes her early days in Paris and introduction to the art of miniatures, “Never before had I experienced such full, rewarding days. I was learning not only about topics as wide-ranging as geography and literature, but about friendship. How had I led nineteen years of such a solitary existence? When news of the Titanic’s sinking reached us, we were in my workshop listening to Madame read Twenty Years at Hull House.” At the book’s beginning Tildy feels the sting of isolation, “For three years, Tildy juggled work and caring for Cliff while living in her childhood home north of the city, a move that marked her retreat from her college and graduate school friends. Or they retreated from her—she could never be quite sure. All she knew was that while her friends moved through their twenties, traveling, getting engaged, and experiencing the other usual rites of passage into adulthood, Tildy remained stuck in the Bay Area, single, grief-stricken over her mother’s death, and anxious about her dad’s illness. Tired of watching everyone else move on with life, Tildy had shut down her social media accounts, a move that only widened her disconnect.“ By the book’s end, modern day Tildy emerges from her own cocoon, “Trying to unravel the story of Cora and her mother was giving Tildy the sense of agency and power she’d been missing. It was an opportunity to push herself out of her small life, to go places, to meet people, to discover new feelings. By putting questions about the past to rest, she could get back to living.” By the book’s last chapter it looks like Tildy’s transformation is complete, “For the first time in her life, Tildy didn’t worry about what would happen next.”