Eva’s dad is dead. Her mother isn’t, but ought to be, says Aunt Mathilde. Time to move on . . .
Moving from Nova Scotia, Eva tries not to care. She’s already dropped out of school and is washing dishes for a living. Despite her aunt’s encouragement, she can’t speak French, the mother tongue of her Acadian family, but Mathilde insists they have to go to Montreal—now.
Mathilde has provided reluctant care for her niece for more than a decade, despite the fact that she hates her sister so much, even her name is banned in her presence. Mathilde spends her evenings drinking and writing love letters to a long-gone man, dreaming of what might have been.
An old photograph of a happy seven-year-old with dimples is taped to the wall by Gaby’s bunk in the Nova Institute for Women. With her parole hearing weeks away, Gaby doesn’t have any plans or hopes for a future outside of prison beyond to find her daughter.
Whether it is on the French Shore, Truro or Montreal, all three women can’t escape the spectre of Adam, Eva’s charming, dead father, and the unspoken memories of blood and loss.
A triumph with filmic vividness. I was gripped from the very beginning and found myself looking for any chance I got to read it. Though related by blood, Mathilde, Gaby and Eva are very different women. I enjoyed growing with them, as well as following them through some of their demises. One of the best books I’ve read this year, if not THE best.