The Lost Apothecary - A Book Review of Sorts

A Book Review of Sorts

The Lost Apothecary, by Sara Penner

So what’s it about in a very small nutshell?

Part historical fiction, part mystery, with a touch of magic, this novel switches perspectives between Nella, an unusual 18th-century apothecary, and Caroline, a present-day aspiring historian. Their worlds collide when Caroline embarks on her first mudlarking excursion in London.

Why did I read it?

Um, mudlarking, duh!

Well, there is actually a little story behind how I came to read The Lost Apothecary. Over the past year, I have been slowly building my little tidal treasures business - in secret. It felt waaaaay too vulnerable to share this new endeavor with anyone except my husband and kids. Okay, I also told my mom. While she is a very-lucid, almost 90-year-old woman, her memory is understandably compromised. So, when I said, “Please don’t tell anyone,” it didn’t exactly stick. It wasn’t long before members of my extended family were sending me good wishes. One such person, my lovely and generous sister-in-law who shares my passion for reading, thought I would connect with this book. 

I mean, mudlarking, duh!

Was she right? Did I connect with this book?

Sometimes you read a book at the exact right moment. Such was the case for me and The Lost Apothecary. 

So much has changed for me in the past three years. My oldest left for college in the fall of 2021, my father passed away at the start of 2022, and my youngest flew from the nest in 2023. I’ve been blessed with a wonderful husband, children I adore, and a job I like. Were anyone to ask, I would most certainly describe my life as a happy one which is why it came as such a surprise to find myself feeling a little lost in my empty home. Actually, lost never quite felt like the best word for what I felt; I just couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Aptly, my beachcombing and mudlarking trips became more frequent at this time. The parallel is not lost on me that at the heart of it, I was searching - for sea glass, artifacts of the past, and sea glass to be sure. But, what else?

As Caroline Parcewell, The Lost Apothecary’s present-day protagonist engages in her own personal quest, she says, “We were happy, yet unfulfilled. It was possible, I understood now, to be both at the same time...How had I only just learned that happiness and fulfillment were entirely distinct things?” And, there it was, the word for what I had been feeling: unfulfilled. 

For what seemed like forever, being a mother was what filled my cup. (Motherhood, by the way, is another central theme in The Lost Apothecary.) Truly, being a mom was the one thing I always knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I wanted to do. Make no mistake, I love it. So, when active, daily mothering was suddenly behind me, I realized that I was sailing into some uncharted waters. It was time for me to find other routes to gratification and achievement, or simply put, to fulfillment.

Of course, it doesn’t hurt for this particular reader that mudlarking  - searching along the shore at low tide for interesting, often old, and sometimes valuable objects - factors mightily into Caroline’s journey. While this activity is new for her, it has long been an interest of mine. Whether I’m holding an old bottle, hand mirror, toy soldier, or even just a little button, I love the sense that the object in my hand had existed in a bygone era. A historian at heart, Caroline says it perfectly in The Lost Apothecary, “To me, the allure of history lay in the minutiae of life long ago, the untold secrets of ordinary people.” (What might my possessions say about me in future centuries?)

As luck, and the magic of fiction would have it, Caroline finds something  - a tangible object - that sets her quest in motion. A historical mystery for which she is the detective unfolds as does her own journey of self-discovery. She notes, “This glass object—delicate and yet still intact, somewhat like myself—was proof that I could be brave, adventurous, and do hard things on my own.” Wow! That quote in particular hit me like a ton of bricks. Yes, I am fascinated by the historical significance of the objects I find, and yes, I am moved by the sense of human connection I experience when I handle something - even that little button - that had long ago belonged to someone else. What was the life of that tiny button, and what of its owner(s)? Whose shirt(s) had it been on? What did it see and hear? What is its story, and why has it stood the test of time?  Yet, it is more than where that button has been, isn’t it? It’s the fact that even the tiniest of buttons can withstand the often punishing ebbs and flows of the tide, and remain, remarkably, intact. It’s nothing short of miraculous, indeed inspiring, that it resurfaces, presenting itself to be discovered anew.  

At one point, Caroline states, “It's okay to change…but it's not okay to hide, to bury parts of ourselves.” (Cough, cough - you may recall that tidal treasures was meant to be my little secret.) I would argue that everyone hides parts of themselves to some extent. I am also aware that for some of us, it is our default setting. The perceived consequences of being imperfect, wrong, or, heaven-forbid, not good at something right out of the gate can feel like unbearable vulnerability. All too often, hiding seems like the safest, and therefore, the only option. So, the metaphorical lesson to be drawn from these objects that are buried over time and then plucked from the wet ground at low tide is a powerful one. The Lost Apothecary reminds us of “the importance of shining new light on old truths hidden in dark places.”

A new friend of Caroline’s tells her, “if you want something different, the only person holding you back is you.” And, she asks Caroline, “What is it you love to do?” At its core, Caroline’s story is about uncovering the answer to this question and finding the courage within to actively seek fulfillment from that which she loves. Like Caroline, my own mudlarking and beachcombing adventures have led me to uncover mysteries both historical and personal. They have organically led me to “shine new light” on long-buried interests and to reveal new passions and talents. Truth be told, they have even led me down some dead-end roads and into some failed endeavors. Surprisingly, rather than “burying those parts of myself,” I have drawn strength from the fact that, like that little button, I remain whole and ready to conquer another day. Being a mother will always be my blessing and my honor, but I am learning there can be multiple paths to fulfillment. My rediscovery and reincarnation, like that of the button, is undoubtedly tentative but also a bit magical.

Should you read The Lost Apothecary?

Whether, like me, you’re a compulsive searcher - literally and/or figuratively - or you simply like a good mudlarking mystery, I would say YES!