I am re reading The Orchardist and it is just as beautiful the 2nd time through.

https://amzn.to/3WKF1UB

I just love this beautiful book. Every now and then, a book comes along that doesn’t just tell a story—it shifts something inside you. For me, The Orchardist by Amanda Coplin was that kind of book.

I picked it up expecting a quiet, historical novel about a man who tends fruit trees. What I found instead was a deeply meditative exploration of grief, solitude, and the unexpected ways love can show up in a life.

Set in the Pacific Northwest in the early 1900s, the novel follows William Talmadge, a solitary orchardist who lives with the long shadow of loss. His days are spent in near silence, tending to his apples and apricots, his only company the land and his memories. Then two young, pregnant girls—Jane and Della—appear on his property, wild with fear and distrust, and everything begins to shift.

But nothing in this book happens quickly, and that’s its brilliance. Coplin writes with immense patience, giving each character the dignity of silence and space. Her prose is spare but lyrical, as though the words themselves are choosing when to appear, much like the girls who inch their way into Talmadge’s life. There’s so much unsaid in this book, and yet you feel everything. Every grief. Every small kindness. Every impossible choice.

What struck me most was how The Orchardist refuses to sentimentalize its characters. It doesn’t offer easy healing or tidy closure. Instead, it honors the messiness of survival—the ways people carry pain, the way love can sometimes look like letting someone go rather than holding on.

Reading this book felt like watching a slow sunrise. It reminded me that some of the most powerful stories are the ones that whisper instead of shout—the ones that invite you to sit still, to listen closely, and to feel deeply.

If you’re looking for a novel that’s more of an experience than an escape—something that will stay with you long after you close the last page—The Orchardist is worth your time.