The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

“Charles Lamb made me laugh during the German Occupation, especially when he wrote about the roast pig. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society came into being because of a roast pig we had kept secret from the German soldiers, so I feel a kinship to Mr. Lamb.”

Here, the authors demonstrate how literature can be endlessly relevant to a multitude of contexts and how, in turn, this relevance can connect individuals over space and time. Though they are more than 100 years apart, Lamb’s words still affect Dawsey and warm his heart.

“I wonder how the book got to Guernsey? Perhaps there is some secret sort of homing instinct in books that brings them to their perfect readers. How delightful if that were true.”

Though books have no agency, the authors nevertheless intimate that readers can draw meaning from the stories they read. As each reader defines this meaning, a network is built wherein all readers are tied to one another through their connection to a given book—which is the implied connection here between Dawsey and Juliet.

“That’s what I love about reading: one tiny thing will interest you in a book, and that tiny thing will lead you onto another book, and another bit there will lead you onto a third book. It’s geometrically progressive—all with no end in sight, and for no other reason than sheer enjoyment.”

Much like in the previous passage, Juliet suggests that the act of reading is innately a community-building process. As one consumes more books, one is related to more networks of readers who have appreciated the same work.

“‘OH-HO!’ he [Gilly] smirked, ‘What was it, then? Drink? Other women? A touch of the old Oscar Wilde?’”

This passage is reflective of how writing can come to define a given community’s identity. Though Gilly’s remark about “the touch of the old Oscar Wilde” is made derisively to refer to Juliet’s ex-fiancé’s possible gay sexuality, the authors also point to the cultural impact made by Oscar Wilde, his writings, and his famous quote about the love that dared not speak its name. The authors later drive home this impact when Isola reveals the letters Wilde wrote to her grandmother because even despite his derision of Wilde, Gilly knows the value of his writing and tries to steal the letters for himself.

“But breaking curfew was a crime—I’d heard of folks being sent to prison camp for it—and keeping a pig was a worse one, so we whispered and picked our way through the fields as quiet as could be.”

In this excerpt, the authors showcase the erratic and almost whimsical application of punishment during the German Occupation. Though allegedly meant to be a “Model Occupation” that would reassure Britain, Guernsey under German rule was deeply affected by the constant threat of cruelty at the hands of those in power.

“There is so much we wanted to know during the war, but we were not allowed letters or papers from England—or anywhere. In 1942, the Germans called in all the wireless sets—of course, there were hidden ones, listened to in secret, but if you were caught, you could be sent to the camps. That is why we don’t understand so many things we can read about now.”

Isolation in the English Channel Islands was almost complete, leaving islanders with little information about or hope from the external world. The fact that this isolation was made possible mostly because of the sea’s presence on all fronts also implies that if Germany had succeeded in conquering Britain, it too would have suffered the same level of isolation.

“Their object was to prove to the British that the German Occupation was a Model Occupation. How this message was to be conveyed to the outside world was never explained, as the telephone and telegraph cable between Guernsey and London had been cut the day the Germans landed in June 1940. Whatever their skewed reasoning, the Channel Islands were treated much more leniently than the rest of conquered Europe—at first.”

Here, the authors hint at how the assumptions made about Guernsey’s experience during the Occupation differ from fact. Though the islanders garnered a bad reputation as collaborators during the war who encountered little hardship, the reality was much crueler in the end. As the years went by, islanders certainly knew a different kind of hardship than London citizens, but in many respects, it was just as difficult to bear.

“I hadn’t realized that the Germans permitted no outside news at all, not even letters, to reach Guernsey. It surprised me so much. It shouldn’t have—I knew the Channel Islands had been occupied, but I never, not once, thought what that might have entailed.”

This passage implies that just as Guernsey was cut off from external communication during the Occupation, so too were Britain’s citizens cut off from the developments in Guernsey during the Occupation. But whereas Guernsey had no choice in their isolation, the authors indicate that the British government left the topic of the Channel Islands unattended by choice.

“Do you know what sentence of his [Shakespeare’s] I admire the most? It is ‘The bright day is done, and we are for the dark.’ I wish I’d known those words on the day I watched those German troops land […] I’d have been consoled somehow and ready to go out and contend with circumstance—instead of my heart sinking to my shoes.”

Shaffer and Barrows demonstrate the solace words can impart to a reader. Though facing terrible circumstances, the power to contextualize one’s situation through words, the authors imply, allows a person to regain a sense of control. Though separated by centuries, Shakespeare’s words nevertheless remind the Society that they can endure dark times.

“‘Lookie there, Nancy. The gentleness of Heaven broods o’er the sea—Listen, the mighty Being is awake.’ She let me kiss her. She is now my wife.”

Communication, Shaffer and Barrows highlight, is often the biggest hurdle to conveying the depth of a person’s personality to an intended. Here, the authors demonstrate how relying on past masters of the written word to properly convey one’s feelings when one is struggling on their own can, at times, yield the best results.

“The Society members have colluded amongst themselves to raise the bastard child of Elizabeth McKenna and her German Paramour, Doctor/Captain Christian Hellman. Yes, a German soldier!”

This excerpt shows that Elizabeth was socially rebellious for her time. Though the act of falling in love with a German soldier was reprehensible on principle, Elizabeth’s decision to have a child out of wedlock only further ostracizes her from a society that still saw value in the sanctity of religious rites and strict gender roles during times of crisis.

“It seems to me that his [Seneca’s] words travel well—to all men in all times.”

Part of the unifying power of literature, the authors suggest, is its ability to cross social, spatial, and temporal divides. Though almost two millennia separate Seneca from John Booker, the former’s writings prove that there is a common bond among all humans and their experiences, no matter the time period.

“I don’t think some Islanders ever credited the boredom of those years as a reason to befriend the enemy. Boredom is a powerful reason, and the prospect of fun is a powerful reason, and the prospect of fun is a powerful draw—especially when you are young.”

Though the Occupation was an experience of danger that often flirted with pain and death, the authors suggest that it was also mundane, begetting a false sense of normalcy and complacency among some. Thus lulled, islanders, the authors show, were not above finding entertainment within their new normal.

 “I want the truth of them told in your story. They’d never have touched a book, but for the OCCUPATION. I stand by what I say, and you can quote me direct.”

This passage is indicative of how reading gave the Society members a tenuous sense of safety during the Occupation. As no one could doubt their gatherings because of the books they read, reading acts as a shield for German soldiers’ collaborators’ prying eyes. Beyond that, however, it also opened the world of literature to a group of people who might not otherwise have read anything.

“The Channel is no longer framed in rolls of barbed wire, the view is unbroken by huge VERBOTEN signs. The mines are gone from our beaches, and I can walk when, where, and for as long as I like. If I stand on the cliffs and turn out to face the sea, I don’t see the ugly cement bunkers behind me, or the land naked without its trees. Not even the Germans could ruin the sea.”

In this excerpt, the authors show the slowly receding changes within Guernsey’s landscape to symbolize the gradual healing process of the islanders and Britain more generally. Some wounds, however, are too deep to heal fully, much like the bunkers and the fortifications, which will continue as reminders of the war’s horrors.

“But what I cannot imagine is Charles [Lamb], coming home from work and finding his mother stabbed to death, his father bleeding, and his sister Mary standing over both with a bloody knife. How did he make himself go into the room and take the knife away from her?”

This passage to juxtaposes the personal history of Charles Lamb and his sister with the experiences the islanders have with their German occupiers. Though subjected to pain, death, and sorrow, Shaffer and Barrows use Lamb’s relationship with his sister to demonstrate that compassion, love, and understanding are still possible even after facing terrible occurrences.

“When Kit was born, Elizabeth kept her paternity a secret from the authorities. Not out of shame, but because she was afraid that the baby would be taken from her and sent to Germany to be raised.”

Here, the authors hint at the historical context of Hitler’s army recruitment tactics, specifically his insistence on involving children from an early age in Nazism. Likewise, Shaffer and Barrows expose Elizabeth’s unconditional love for her daughter, forcing her to silence the love she bore for the father to keep Kit safe from harm.

“He’d fought on the Somme. Tears were running down his face, and not knowing it, he was twisting my arm, wringing it, saying, ‘How can they be doing this again? We beat them and here they are again. How did we let them do this again?’”

Here, the authors refer to not only WWI that had torn Europe apart less than 30 years earlier but also to how the atrocities of that war led to the appeasement policies in European politics when Hitler began his expansive conquest. Rather than risk war, Britain and its allies sought to avoid conflict at all costs and, by doing so, gave Hitler the time and means to carry out his military campaign and genocide.

“Mr. Churchill, he wouldn’t let the Red Cross ships bring us any food before then because he said the Germans would just take it, and eat it up themselves. Now that may sound like smart planning to you—to starve the villains out! But to me it said he just didn’t care if we starved along with them.”

In this excerpt, the authors underscore the cost of the Channel Islands’ reputation as collaborators during the war. It was never confirmed whether Churchill’s command to “Let ‘em starve!” was directed at the German Occupation force or the islanders, but the results were the same. Though the islands were a part of Britain, islanders received the same treatment as Britain’s enemies.

“I do not believe those young ladies were there because they wanted to be. They were sent from the Occupied territories of Europe, same as the Todt slave workers. It could not have been nice work.”

This passage reflects the diversity of hardships women encountered during the Occupation. Though seen as supporting the invaders and deemed reprehensible for their connection to the Germans and the nature of their work, the women working in the German brothels were part of a greater system of exploitation that forcibly displaced them and left them at the army’s mercy.

“Kit seems to show no ill-effects from having been brought up piecemeal by Society members. It certainly hasn’t made her fearful and retiring.”

This excerpt gestures toward the survivor’s ability to make do and move on. Though Kit is an orphan who has known nothing but the German Occupation, her life remains full of people who love her, look out for her, and aim to provide her with a better future.

“Her strength did not fail her, nor her mind, not ever—she just saw one cruelty too many.”

This passage gives insight into Elizabeth’s sense of morality. Throughout the narrative and the memories other Society members have shared of her, Elizabeth proves herself a capable and resourceful individual who can easily discern the risks of a given situation. During her time in the concentration camp, however, Elizabeth is incapable of following the logical path, the one that would ensure her survival. She cares too deeply to allow cruel behavior toward other women in the barracks, and her attempt to protect them results in her death.

“Then they stripped off the branches, smeared the trunks with creosote, and stuck them upright in holes they had dug in the fields. The trees were called Rommel’s Asparagus and were meant to keep Allied gliders from landing and soldiers from parachuting.”

This passage demonstrates how even the land was weaponized during the war. Trees, which should have been symbols of life and ecological diversity, were killed and stripped down into tools for death and destruction.