Jack sends a postcard back to Eve, who lives alone in the English countryside and seems, on the face of it, as different from him as can be. Long divorced, solitary and struggling with anxiety, she has been dominated by a ghastly mother and is now being bossed around by her daughter.
Soon it becomes clear that Jack and Eve share an enthusiasm for cooking. They have other things in common too; both are middle-aged, both struggling. Their correspondence becomes a comforting ritual. They swap recipes and, as the tone turns more personal, Jack suggests they meet up in Paris. But Eve has a secret. And Jack has hooked up with another woman. So will it ever happen?
Though this is an epistolary novel, the letters aren't the real meat of it and the relationship between Jack and Eve isn't completely convincing. Both 84 Charing Cross Rd and the similarly epistolary Guernsey Literary And Potato Peel Pie Society were set in an era before Facebook, Skype and cheap long-distance phone calls, so it was plausible that a friendship might form and deepen purely through cards and letters. For some reason Eve and Jack stick to writing to one another, despite the many other modern forms of communication available, and even then most of their exchanges are brief so there is no solid sense of a bond forming. To me, their connection seems more of a device for McKinlay to be able to explore their two lives and the worlds she wants to write about. And that she does quite beautifully, turning out a thoughtful, heartwarming novel about two very different people at turning points in their lives and how they get through them.
That Part Was True is a cheerful, relaxing read even if it's not entirely satisfying as a love story. Or entirely original.