(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
The Aviator's Wifeby Melanie Benjamin
For much of her life, Anne Morrow, the shy daughter of the U.S. ambassador to Mexico, has stood in the/b>/i>/i>
- Editorial Reviews
- Product Details
- Related Subjects
- Read an Excerpt
- What People Are Saying
- Meet the author
In the spirit of Loving Frank and The Paris Wife, acclaimed novelist Melanie Benjamin pulls back the curtain on the marriage of one of America’s most extraordinary couples: Charles Lindbergh and Anne Morrow Lindbergh.
For much of her life, Anne Morrow, the shy daughter of the U.S. ambassador to Mexico, has stood in the shadows of those around her, including her millionaire father and vibrant older sister, who often steals the spotlight. Then Anne, a college senior with hidden literary aspirations, travels to Mexico City to spend Christmas with her family. There she meets Colonel Charles Lindbergh, fresh off his celebrated 1927 solo flight across the Atlantic. Enthralled by Charles’s assurance and fame, Anne is certain the celebrated aviator has scarcely noticed her. But she is wrong.
Charles sees in Anne a kindred spirit, a fellow adventurer, and her world will be changed forever. The two marry in a headline-making wedding. Hounded by adoring crowds and hunted by an insatiable press, Charles shields himself and his new bride from prying eyes, leaving Anne to feel her life falling back into the shadows. In the years that follow, despite her own major achievements—she becomes the first licensed female glider pilot in the United States—Anne is viewed merely as the aviator’s wife. The fairy-tale life she once longed for will bring heartbreak and hardships, ultimately pushing her to reconcile her need for love and her desire for independence, and to embrace, at last, life’s infinite possibilities for change and happiness.
Drawing on the rich history of the twentieth century—from the late twenties to the mid-sixties—and featuring cameos from such notable characters as Joseph Kennedy and Amelia Earhart, The Ambassador’s Daughter is a vividly imagined novel of a complicated marriage—revealing both its dizzying highs and its devastating lows. With stunning power and grace, Melanie Benjamin provides new insight into what made this remarkable relationship endure.
PRAISE FOR MELANIE BENJAMIN
The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb
“By turns heartrending and thrilling, this bighearted novel recounts a fictionalized life of this most extraordinary of women in prose that is lush and details that are meticulously researched. I loved this book.”—Sara Gruen
Alice I Have Been
“This is magic! Childhood, sensuality, love, sorrow, and wonder, all bright and complex as the shifting patterns of a kaleidoscope.”—Diana Gabaldon
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
“Remarkable . . . The Aviator’s Wife succeeds [in] putting the reader inside Anne Lindbergh’s life with her famous husband.”—The Denver Post
“[This novel] will fascinate history buffs and surprise those who know of her only as ‘the aviator’s wife.’ ”—People
“It’s hard to quit reading this intimate historical fiction.”—The Dallas Morning News
“Fictional biography at its finest.”—Booklist (starred review)
“Utterly unforgettable.”—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“An intimate examination of the life and emotional mettle of Anne Morrow.”—The Washington Post
“A story of both triumph and pain that will take your breath away.”—Kate Alcott, author of The Dressmaker
“Melanie Benjamin inhabits Anne Morrow Lindbergh completely, freeing her from the shadows of her husband’s stratospheric fame.”—Isabel Wolff, author of A Vintage Affair
- Random House Publishing Group
- Publication date:
- Sales rank:
- Product dimensions:
- 6.02(w) x 8.38(h) x 1.34(d)
Read an Excerpt
Benjamin / THE AVIATOR'S WIFE
Down to earth.
I repeated the phrase to myself, whispering it in wonder. Down to earth. What a plodding expression, really, when you considered it—I couldn’t help but think of muddy fields and wheel ruts and worms—yet people always meant it as a compliment.
“ ‘Down to earth’—did you hear that, Elisabeth? Can you believe Daddy would say that about an aviator, of all people?”
“I doubt he even realized what he was saying,” my sister murmured as she scribbled furiously on her lap desk, despite the rocking motion of the train. “Now, Anne, dear, if you’d just let me finish this letter . . .”
“Of course he didn’t,” I persisted, refusing to be ignored. This was the third letter she’d written today! “Daddy never does know what he’s saying, which is why I love him. But honestly, that’s what his letter said—‘I do hope you can meet Colonel Lindbergh. He’s so down to earth!’ ”
“Well, Daddy is quite taken with the colonel. . . .”
“Oh, I know—and I didn’t mean to criticize him! I was just thinking out loud. I wouldn’t say anything like that in person.” Suddenly my mood shifted, as it always seemed to do whenever I was with my family. Away from them, I could be confident, almost careless, with my words and ideas. Once, someone even called me vivacious (although to be honest, he was a college freshman intoxicated by bathtub gin and his first whiff of expensive perfume).
Whenever my immediate family gathered, however, it took me a while to relax, to reacquaint myself with the rhythm of speech and good-natured joshing that they seemed to fall into so readily. I imagined that they carried it with them, even when we were all scattered; I fancied each one of them humming the tune of this family symphony in their heads as they went about their busy lives.
Like so many other family traits—the famous Morrow sense of humor, for instance—the musical gene appeared to have skipped me. So it always took me longer to remember my part in this domestic song and dance. I’d been traveling with my sister and brother on this Mexican-bound train for a week, and still I felt tongue-tied and shy. Particularly around Dwight, now a senior at Groton; my brother had grown paler, prone to strange laughing fits, almost reverting to childhood at times, even as physically he was fast maturing into a carbon copy of our father.
Elisabeth was the same as ever, and I was the same as ever around her; no longer a confident college senior, I was diminished in her golden presence. In the stale air of the train car, I felt as limp and wrinkled as the sad linen dress I was wearing. While she looked as pressed and poised as a mannequin, not a wrinkle or smudge on her smart silk suit, despite the red dust blowing in through the inadequate windows.
“Now, don’t go brooding already, Anne, for heaven’s sake! Of course you wouldn’t criticize Daddy to his face—you, of all people! There!” Elisabeth signed her letter with a flourish, folded it carefully, and tucked it in her pocket. “I’ll wait until later before I address it. Just think how grand it will look on the embassy stationery!”
“Who are you writing this time? Connie?”
Elisabeth nodded brusquely; she wrote to Connie Chilton, her former roommate from Smith, so frequently the question hardly seemed worth acknowledging. Then I almost asked if she needed a stamp, before I remembered. We were dignitaries now. Daddy was ambassador to Mexico. We Morrows had no need for such common objects as stamps. All our letters would go in the special government mail pouch, along with Daddy’s memos and reports.
It was rumored that Colonel Lindbergh himself would be taking a mail pouch back to Washington with him, when he flew away. At least, that’s what Daddy had insinuated in his last let- ter, the one I had received just before boarding the train in New York with Elisabeth and Dwight. We were in Mexico now; we’d crossed the border during the night. I couldn’t stop marveling at the strange landscape as we’d chugged our way south; the flat, strangely light-filled plains of the Midwest; the dreary desert in Texas, the lonely adobe houses or the occasional tin-roofed shack underneath a bleached-out, endless sky. Mexico, by contrast, was greener than I had imagined, especially as we climbed toward Mexico City.
“Did you tell Connie that we saw Gloria Swanson with Mr. Kennedy?” We’d caught a glimpse of the two, the movie star and the banker (whom we knew socially), when they boarded the train in Texas. Both of them had their heads down and coat collars turned up. Joseph Kennedy was married, with a brood of Catholic children and a lovely wife named Rose. Miss Swanson was married to a French marquis, according to the Photoplay I sometimes borrowed from my roommate.
“I didn’t. Daddy wouldn’t approve. We do have to be more careful now that he’s ambassador.”
“That’s true. But didn’t she look so tiny in person! Much smaller than in the movies. Hardly taller than me!”
“I’ve heard that about movie stars.” Elisabeth nodded thoughtfully. “They say Douglas Fairbanks isn’t much taller than Mary Pickford.”
A colored porter knocked on the door to our compartment; he stuck his head inside. “We’ll be at the station momentarily, miss,” he said to Elisabeth, who smiled graciously and nodded, her blond curls tickling her forehead. Then he retreated.
“I can’t wait to see Con,” I said, my stomach dancing in anticipation. “And Mother, of course. But mainly Con!” I missed my little sister; missed and envied her, both. At fourteen, she was able to make the move to Mexico City with our parents and live the gay diplomatic life that I could glimpse only on holidays like this; my first since Daddy had been appointed.
I picked up my travel case and followed Elisabeth out of our private car and into the aisle, where we were joined by Dwight, who was tugging at his tie.
“Is this tied right, Anne?” He frowned, looking so like Daddy that I almost laughed; Daddy never could master the art of ty- ing a necktie, either. Daddy couldn’t master the art of wearing clothes, period. His pants were always too long and wrinkled, like elephants’ knees.
“Yes, of course.” But I gave it a good tug anyway.
Then suddenly the train had stopped; we were on a platform swirling with excited passengers greeting their loved ones, in a soft, blanketing warmth that gently thawed my bones, still chilled from the Northampton winter I carried with me, literally, on my arm. I’d forgotten to pack my winter coat in my trunk.
“Anne! Elisabeth! Dwight!” A chirping, a laugh, and then Con was there, her round little face brown from sun, her dark hair pulled back from her face with a gay red ribbon. She was wearing a Mexican dress, all bright embroidery and full skirt; she even had huaraches on her tiny feet.
“Oh, look at you!” I hugged her, laughing. “What a picture! A true señorita!”
Turning blindly, I found myself in my mother’s embrace, and then too quickly released as she moved on to Elisabeth. Mother looked as ever, a sensible New England clubwoman plunked down in the middle of the tropics. Daddy, his pants swimming as usual, his tie askew, was shaking Dwight’s hand and kissing Elisabeth on the cheek at the same time.
Finally he turned to me; rocking back on his heels, he looked me up and down and then nodded solemnly, although his eyes twinkled. “And there’s Anne. Reliable Anne. You never change, my daughter.”
I blushed, not sure if this was a compliment, choosing to think it might be. Then I ran to his open arms, and kissed his stubbly cheek.
“Merry Christmas, Mr. Ambassador!”
“Yes, yes—a merry Christmas it will be! Now, hurry up, hurry up, and you may be able to catch Colonel Lindbergh before he goes out.”
“He’s still here?” I asked, as Mother marshaled us expertly into two waiting cars, both black and gleaming, ostentatiously so. I was acutely aware of our luggage piling up on the platform, matching and initialed and gleaming with comfortable wealth. I couldn’t help but notice how many people were lugging straw cases as they piled into donkey carts.
“Yes, Colonel Lindbergh is still here— oh, my dear, you should have seen the crowds at the airfield when he arrived! Two hours late, but nobody minded a bit. That plane, what’s it called, the Ghost of St. Louis, isn’t it—”
Con began to giggle helplessly, and I suppressed a smile.
“It’s the Spirit of St. Louis,” I corrected her, and my mother met my gaze with a bemused expression in her downward-slanted eyes. I felt myself blush, knowing what she was thinking. Anne? Swooning for the dashing young hero, just like all the other girls? Who could have imagined?
“Yes, of course, the Spirit of St. Louis. And the colonel has agreed to spend the holidays with us in the embassy. Your father is beside himself. Mr. Henry Ford has even sent a plane to fetch the colonel’s mother, and she’ll be here, as well. At dinner, Elisabeth will take special care of him—oh, and you, too, dear, you must help. To tell the truth, I find the colonel to be rather shy.”
“He’s ridiculously shy,” Con agreed, with another giggle. “I don’t think he’s ever really talked to girls before!”
“Con, now, please. The colonel’s our guest. We must make him feel at home,” Mother admonished.
I listened in dismay as I followed her into the second car; Daddy, Dwight, and Elisabeth roared off in the first. The colonel—a total stranger—would be part of our family Christmas? I certainly hadn’t bargained on that, and couldn’t help but feel that it was rude of a stranger to insinuate himself in this way. Yet at the mere mention of his name my heart began to beat faster, my mind began to race with the implications of this unexpected stroke of what the rest of the world would call enormous good luck. Oh, how the girls back at Smith would scream once they found out! How envious they all would be!
Before I could sort out my tangled thoughts, we were being whisked away to the embassy at such a clip I didn’t have time to take in the strange, exotic landscape of Mexico City. My only impression was a blur of multicolored lights in the gathering shadows of late afternoon, and bleached-out buildings punctuated by violent shocks of color. So delightful to think that there were wildflowers blooming in December!
“Is the colonel really as shy as all that?” It seemed impossible, that this extraordinary young man would suffer from such an ordinary affliction, just like me.
“Oh, yes. Talk to him about aviation—that’s really the only way you can get him to say more than ‘yes,’ ‘no,’ and ‘pass the salt,’ ” Mother said. Then she patted me on my knee. “Now, how was your last term? Aren’t you glad you listened to reason af- ter all, when you thought you wanted to go to Vassar? Now you’re almost through, almost a Smith graduate, just like Elisabeth and me!”
I smiled, looked at my shoes—caked with the dust of travel—and nodded, although my mouth was set in a particular prickly way, my only outward sign of rebellion. After almost four years, I still wished I’d been allowed to go to Vassar, as I’d so desperately wanted.
But I swallowed my annoyance and dutifully recited grades and small academic triumphs, even as my mind raced ahead of the two sleek embassy cars. Colonel Lindbergh. I hadn’t counted on meeting him so soon— or at all, really. I’d thought his visit was merely an official stop on some grand tour of Latin America and that he’d be gone long before my vacation started. My palms grew clammy, and I wished I’d changed into a nicer frock on the train. I’d never met a hero before. I worried that one of us would be disappointed.
“I can’t wait for the colonel to meet Elisabeth,” Mother said, as if she could read my thoughts. “Oh, and you, too, dear.”
I nodded. But I knew what she meant. My older sister was a beauty—the beauty, in the parlance of the Morrow family, as if there could be room for only one. She had a porcelain complexion, blond curls, round blue eyes with thick black eyelashes, and a darling of a nose, the master brushstroke that finished off her portrait of a face. Whereas I was all nose, with slanty eyes like Mother’s, and dark hair; while I was shorter than Elisabeth, my figure was rounder. Too round, too busty and curvy, for the streamlined flapper fashions that were still all the rage this December of 1927.
“I’m sure I won’t be able to think of a thing to say to him. I’m sure I won’t be able to think of a thing to say to anyone. Oh, what a lot of bother this all is!” Gesturing at the plush red upholstery, the liveried driver, the twin flags—one of the United States, the other of Mexico—planted on the hood of the car, I allowed myself a rare outburst, meeting Mother’s disapproving frown without blinking. Christmas was special. The rest of the year we might all be flung about, like a game of Puss-in-the-Corner. But Christmas was home, was safe, was the idea of family that I carried around with me the rest of the year, even as I recognized it didn’t quite match up with reality. Already I missed my cozy room back home in Englewood, with my writing desk, my snug twin bed covered by the white chenille bedspread my grandmother had made as a bride, bookshelves full of childhood favorites—Anne of Green Gables, the Just So Stories, Kim. Stubbornly, I told myself that I would never get used to Daddy’s new life as a diplomat, his ability to attract dashing young aviators notwithstanding. I much preferred him as a staid banker.
“Anne, please. Don’t let your father hear you say this. He’s very fond of the young man, and wants to help him with all his new responsibilities. I gather Colonel Lindbergh doesn’t have much of a family, only his mother. It’s our duty to welcome him into our little family circle.”
I nodded, instantly vanquished; unable to explain to her how I felt. I never was able to explain—anything—to my mother. Elisabeth she understood; Dwight she entrusted to my father. Con was young and bubbly and simply a delight. I was— Anne. The shy one, the strange one. Only in letters did my mother and I have anything close to true communion. In person, we didn’t know what to do with each other.
And duty I understood all too well. If a history of our family was to be written, it could be summed up with that one word. Duty. Duty to others less fortunate, less happy, less educated; less. Although most of the time I thought there really couldn’t be anyone in this world less than me.
“Now, don’t worry yourself so, Anne,” Mother continued, almost sympathetically; at least she patted my arm. “The colonel is a mere mortal, despite what your father and all the newspapers say.”
“A handsome mere mortal,” Con said with a dreamy sigh, and I couldn’t help but laugh. When had my little sister started thinking of men as handsome?
But at her age, I had started to dream of heroes, I recalled. Sometimes, I still did.
The cars slowed and turned into a gated drive; we stopped in front of an enormous, showy palace—the embassy. Our embassy, I realized, and had to stifle an urge to giggle. I followed Mother and Con out of the car and hung back as Daddy marched up a grand stone staircase covered in a red carpet. A line of uniformed officers stood on both sides of the staircase, heralding our arrival.
“Can you believe it?” I whispered to Elisabeth, clinging to her hand for comfort. She shook her head, her eyes snapping with amusement even as her face paled. The flight of steps seemed endless, and Elisabeth was not strong, physically. But she took a deep breath and began to climb them, so I had no choice but to follow.
I couldn’t look at the uniformed men; I couldn’t look at the landing, where he was waiting. So I looked at the carpet instead, and hoped that I would never run out of it. Of course, I did; we were done climbing, finding ourselves on a shaded landing, and Mother was pushing Elisabeth forward, exclaiming, “Colonel Lindbergh, I’m so glad for you to meet my eldest daughter, Elisabeth!”
Elisabeth smiled and held out her hand, so naturally. As if she was meeting just another college boy, and not the hero of our time.
“I’m happy to meet you, Colonel,” she said coolly. Then she glided past, following Daddy into the embassy.
“Oh, and of course, this is Anne,” Mother said after a moment, pushing me forward as well.
I looked up—and up. And up. Into a face instantly familiar and yet so unexpected I almost gasped; piercing eyes, high forehead, cleft chin, just like in the newsreels; a face made for statues and history books, I couldn’t help but think. And here he was suddenly right in front of me, amid my family in this unexpected, almost cartoonish, opulence. My head swam, and I wished I had never left my dormitory room.
He shook my hand without a smile, for a smile would be too ordinary for him. Then he dropped it quickly, as if it stung. He took a step back and bumped into a stone pillar. His expression never changed, although I thought I detected a faint blush. Then he turned to follow Elisabeth and Daddy into the embassy. Mother bustled after them.
I stood where I was for a long moment, wondering why my hand still tingled where he had held it.
What People are saying about this
“Talented historical novelist Benjamin has a knack for picking intriguing, if somewhat obscure, women in history and making them utterly unforgettable. . . . In true Benjamin style, it’s Anne who captures us all in this exquisite fictional take on an iconic marriage.”—Publishers Weekly
“What happens when you marry the greatest superstar of his time? Beneath the boyish persona of the beautiful aviator Lindbergh is a driven man, impossible not to love and yet impossible to live with. In this compelling portrait of a marriage between the naïve young Anne and her world famous husband, Anne will overcome tragedies and betrayals to evolve into a strong woman and writer; even then when she has gained so much, she cannot entirely put aside the man she loves. This soaring novel of a woman’s journey through a difficult marriage to self-discovery is sure to be a book club favorite.”—Stephanie Cowell, author of Claude & Camille
“A story of both triumph and pain that will take your breath away.”—Kate Alcott, author of The Dressmaker
“Melanie Benjamin inhabits Anne Morrow Lindbergh completely, freeing her from the shadows of her husband’s stratospheric fame.”—Isabel Wolff, author of A Vintage Affair
“An unflinching exploration of the most intriguing, public, and tragic marriage of the twentieth century.”—Francine Mathews, author of Jack 1939
“Offers a fascinating glimpse into the uneasy marriage of one of America’s most intriguing couples. Be prepared to question all you know about the Lindberghs.”—Cathy Marie Buchanan, author of The Painted Girls
Meet the Author
Melanie Benjamin is a pseudonym for Melanie Hauser, who has written two contemporary novels. She is the author of the nationally bestselling Alice I Have Been and The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb. Benjamin lives in Chicago, where she is at work on her next historical novel.
and post it to your social network
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
See all customer reviews >
This is an amazing novel, it packed the most emotional punch of any book I have read in years.
I believe all women should read this book and young women need to know women heroes like Anne Morrow Lindbergh. Anne married a hero and that was a tough choice. The Lindbergh's were hounded by the press in a way that only Princess Di could have empathized with them. She virtually became a prisoner in her own home unable to go out to the theater or to shop. The only time they were free of scrutiny was when they were flying. In the earliest of airplanes, Anne became a pilot, a navigator and Charles' trusted one man crew. The soared before there were Tower controls, other planes, or radio communication. They planned airline routes and explored places that were hard to get to. They were a close couple and Charles called all the shots. Anne just obeyed. It's the story of a woman trying to find her own voice and her own life. She wanted more than to be the "Ambassador's Daughter", the "Aviator's wife" or the mother of her six children. She accomplished many things on this road and endured tragedy beyond comprehension. In the end, she took charge of her life and responsibility of her actions. She became a mature, grown-up woman. The novel is entertaining enough if you can bear the pedestrian writing and the endless repetition. It seems to be well researched and doesn't gloss over Lindbergh's Nazi sympathies in the years leading up to WW 2. The description of the kidnapping and murder of the Lindbergh baby is heartbreaking.
A wonderfully told story of the journey of an American icon through an incredible life. This is the first novel by the author I have read, it was one of those books you begin to read very slowly because you don't want it to end.
It kept my attention and made me want to read more - about thd Lindbergs - more from this author. I have read her other books and this one is a great read - like her others. A job very well done.
It is 1974, and Anne Morrow Lindbergh and her children have brought Charles Lindbergh, Lucky Lindy, home to die. As Anne sits with him in his final days, she reflects back on their lives and what sharing a lifetime with such a famous man has been like. Anne is a senior at Smith College when they meet, while Lindbergh has already completed the solo transatlantic flight from the United States to Paris that made him a hero wherever he goes. He takes her flying, and she instantly adores the sensation. She can't believe that such a man has chosen her as his wife, and agrees, unable to believe her luck. Anne feels she is living a fairy tale. But there is a dark side to hero worship. The couple is mobbed wherever they go, the photographers and reporters fighting to get an inch closer, to get their shouted questions answered. They print every detail of the Lindbergh's lives that they can discover. When the couple's toddler son, Charles Junior, is kidnapped and killed, the press is unbearable. Anne can't help but feel that they played a part in the tragedy by singling them out and reporting every detail of their lives. Anne comes to realise that life with Charles is on his terms. He is the bravest man she has ever met, and he has an unerring sense that he is always right. Distant emotionally, he plans every minute of his day and expects to plan Anne's also. She is his co-pilot and navigator in those early years, leaving behind her babies whenever he wants her to. As the years go on, she begins to resent his assumption that he and only he knows best in every situation. Yet Anne stays with him loyally, unable to imagine a life without this man she loves. She sticks with him during the war years, when his hero's mantle is tarnished by his campaign to keep America out of the war, and by his statements that make him appear anti-Semitic. She stays during the war when Charles finally gets involved and leaves her alone to manage the household and children. She stays during the long years after when he stays away for long stretches, leaving her to raise the family while he attends to business. Anne learns to carve out a life on her own terms, with writing as her saving grace. Melanie Benjamin has done a masterful job with this novel. Most readers will learn many things they didn't know about the Lindberghs, who will always be defined by his heroic flight and the kidnapping that was one of the first nationally reported crimes. I didn't know Anne was a pilot in her own right, or that after Charlie's death, they went on to have five other children. This is an interesting book sure to catch the interest of any reader. It is recommended for all readers.
Historical Fiction at its BEST!!! Historical fiction is a great way to learn about events, much more so that reading out of a history book. It truly assists you in relating to this historical persona; allowing insight into their emotions and personalities. If the novel is accurately written, you gain the desire to delve into the history itself, to study more and understand the lives they lead....The Aviator's Wife is such a novel. You could have put my "Lindbergh" knowledge in a thimble before reading this fabulous book. 1. He flew the Spirit of St. Louis in a transatlantic flight. 2. Their first child was kidnapped and murdered. Wow! That is so embarrassing to admit. This couple accomplished so much as both individuals and as a team, that it is incomprehensible, and yet I don't remember once ever hearing of these achievements. Anne is such a strong woman and yet this reveals her weaknesses in a very humble way. I appreciated the candid view of a life full of achievement, but also of loss. It is sad to think that someone had to live a life with no freedom, to live their life without constant scrutiny and bombardment from the press. They were shameless!!! Since finishing this book last night, I began reading "Gift from the Sea" by Anne Morrow Lindbergh. I wanted to read something in her words, just to hear her voice a little longer. In the near future, I will read "Lindbergh" from Scott Berg. I want to get a perspective of Charles' view on his life events. I'm not going to give you a breakdown on every aspect of this book. You need to read it for yourself...it is a journey well worth the flight.
I would recommend her novels to anyone! They are informative and entertaining and always leave me wanting to know more about the characters and research them more on my own.
Since I loved Anne's book Gift of the Sea, I was interested in reading this book. I like historical novels and since I read that this was well-researched, I decided to buy it for my Nook. I did not know anything about their relationship but only the well-known heroic flight, the kidnapping, and the Nazi sympathizer. This book delves into their relationship, which at times, made me want to shake Charles to the core! Ironically, the strong hero becomes the weak and the subservient wife becomes the strong one. After reading this book, I will go back to my Gift of the Sea and read it for a second time, only from a different point of view after reading this book. I thought Melanie Benjamin succintly portrayed the fleshing out of what went on behind close doors.
Everyone knows about the kidnapping, but this book is told through the eyes of his wife Ann. You get a real feel for who Charles really was and how it was to be his wife. I enjoyed the book and would recommend it.
I have read a number of books and articles concerning the Lindbergh's and this was excellent! Absolutely could not put it down from the moment I started reading it--I hope the author will continue to write about the Lindbergh's and the "other" children fathered by our famous aviator. I would definitely recommend this book to anyone interested in the subject!
Our book club really enjoyed discussing the author's fictionalized account of the life Ann Morrow led in the shadow of her famous husband. We all learned some disturbing things about Charles Lindberg. She was definitely a lady to be admired and applauded.
I wasn't familiar with the author or book, but read it on recommendation of a friend. I really enjoyed it and think anyone who is drawn to historical fiction, especially, will, too. The relationship between the main characters is both fascinating and maddening, but in the end, I felt empowered by the strength of character Anne Morrow Lindbergh clearly had.
I really enjoyed this historical fiction novel. It was a very interesting perspective of a famous man's "wife". It's so interesting that the man is extrememly well known and the women who did so many "firsts" in her time was relatively unknown--even to the point that her children didn't know all the amazing things she had done. Well written and a book that I couldn't wait to read each day!
I enjoyed this book, and its premise. Sometimes I thought the prose and the characters were a little flat. Other than the main protagonist, I didn't feel like any of the characters were memorable. But a decent read.
I have always been interested in Anne Morrow Lindbergh as she went to the same college as my mother who had all her books. This book told her story beautifully and has led me to read AML's own diaries: "Bring Me a Unicorn" and "Hour of Gold, Hour of Lead". It has been interesting and fun to read in her own words what I have read in Melanie Benjamin's biography! AML was an INSPIRED writer, portraying emotions, sights, sounds etc. with incredible beauty and richness! She also brings back a time in our country that is long gone but always interesting to read about. Her "Gift From the Sea" is another fabulous book which makes a great gift! This is a woman who is complex and deep, who fell in love with the greatest hero of her times and of the life they made for themselves and their family despite being ALWAYS in the public eye (which made everything so difficult).
The Aviator's Wife by Melanie Benjamin First the cover attracted me then the words as I love to learn about others' careers and this one is not a letdown. There are many narratives and discussions among the characters about planes-the early days. Remember watching the wing walkers on the Walton's show and how they'd deliver mail by air by in the day. I've yet to travel to see the Kitty Hawk area for ourselves and this book is about Anne and Charles Lindbergh' lives. Book chapter alternate from the 1920 to the 1970s. I do want to visit the Smithsonian museum where the original plane is located. Best scene so far is when Anne is taken up in the plane for the very first time, sun just rising and just the feeling she gets. I get something similar when the plane leaves the ground that causes my eyes to water. Such as the pressure of everything has been lifted and there are no worries to concern you, to sit back and enjoy and that's what she does. Love learning about her upbringing-father is a US ambassador and what is expected of her as part of the family. I feel the standards are set high and love her dream of being able to put into words something she experiences. Sad to learn that the press followed them around as the paparazzi does still today. After they marry he teaches her everything he knows about flying so she can do what he does and loves doing it with him. Such an accomplished woman. Love learning new things: rasher of bacon, and all the new places they travel to, whether it be by air or water or land... Anne uncovers family secrets and feels she can tell no one...she is also at the end given letters he had written and with little time left she is able to confront him about the letters.. Tragedy of the child kidnapping and all she went through sounds like more than a nightmare but a treacherous attack on their lives. Returning to military life and politics play a key role with their lives.. Series of essay titles is just perfect with where she is. Such a strong woman to have endured what she did and follow her dream and live her life.
Terrific writing. Couldnt put it down!
Finally we hear the perspective of an affluent and famous relationship in an Era thankfully gone by from the woman who lived it. The double standard by which men lived and women had to tolerate. Hope at the end.
This is a story about the first trans Atlantic plane crossing and the Lindberg family. With our easy travel these days, it is amazing that this was not always the way it was. I enjoyed reading this - remember reading Mrs. Lindberg's book Gift of the Sea years ago. Lots of detail about the kidnapping of their child and how it affected the family. Just a detail type of story which I enjoyed a lot.
Very interesting read.