When I first heard of The Book of Lost Fragrances by M. J. Rose, I was initially intrigued because of the author’s name – I’ve always loved the name Rose and hold it near and dear to my own heart. But the concept of the book is even more interesting and draws you in – the mystery of the poetic scent and the power it would have is almost palpable.I’m not incredibly familiar with reincarnation or Buddhism, but M. J. Rose does an excellent job of both entertaining and informing in The Book of Lost Fragrances.
Buddhism, reincarnation and the art of perfume are all topics that I’m not extremely well-versed in on my own, but my lack of knowledge didn’t inhibit my enjoyment of the book. Sometimes you’ll see a book where you may not know of the main lenses, and that prevents your knowledge of some of the flow of the story, but that was definitely not the case here. I really enjoyed learning about these topics with the story – it was almost as though I learned without realizing it because the story and the information flow so smoothly together.
I’ve not read the other works by the author, but I’m definitely interested now in seeing what else she has written. While this book is a work of fiction, she is an incredible researcher and includes information about what is the same and differs from historical accuracy in the author’s note at the end of the work. I really appreciate that extra effort on the part of the author and take more time to carefully read such works.
This book will be a great summer read! For now, here’s an excerpt for you…
Excerpt from The Book of Lost Fragrances by M. J. Rose:
She was lovely, long and lean with thick, black hair and black eyes that were filled with tears. Her body, enrobed in a thin cotton shift, was wracked with sobs, and the sound of her misery cut through him. Instinctively he knew that something he’d done or hadn’t done was the source, the cause of her pain, and that her suffering was his to quell. He had to make a sacrifice. If he didn’t, her fate would haunt him through eternity. He removed the long linen robe he wore over his kilt and dipped a corner into the water so that he could wipe her cheeks. As he leaned over the river, he glimpsed his face in its surface. L’Etoile saw someone he didn’t recognize. A younger man. Twenty-five at most. http://www.agirlandherbooks.com/