It is important to note that most of the themes explored in this book deal with sensitive subject matters. My review, therefore, touches on these topics as well. Many people might find the book's subject matters & those detailed in my review overwhelming. I suggest you steer clear of both if this is the case. Please note that from this point forward I will be writing about matters that contain reflections on self-harm, attempted suicide, parental neglect, grief, parental abandonment, mental illness, & others.
There is a particular aspect of fanaticism that renders the make-believe frightful. There is no looming monster under our bed, nor any perched ghoul on the roof. The part of our brain that engages with the imagery of these tales utilizes its power to remind us that the scales & oozing secretions could be present; they could become real threats, if, at any point, the brain decides upon a narrative shift. In a world where there are no fantastic beasts, we rely on the sharpened edges of stories, crafted from the sedentary troubles of terrible humans to rivulet the dark of night & send us tormented under folded sheets.
The experiences of those around us shape the world in which we live, without our realizing that the craftsman’s hands are ailed. When the reader is introduced to Enid she is painted with crusted colours. The main character of this book is insecure; she has no fixture; she is on the precipice of snapping; she is uncertain. Like in many of the books I have enjoyed reading, the author has offered a morsel of time for the reader to masticate. Enid’s insecurity is an Everest, making her person fragile porcelain where once she was a stone.
When Enid was young her life became a secret. It is never very pleasant to speak on things that hurt us & for Enid, her quotidian was filled with gelatinous beasts salivating in every corner. Her father, a man she hardly knew, had a short stint relationship with her mother; they became pregnant; Enid’s existence in the world knew him only as a shadow.
Her father chose to invest his time with a woman who became a mother to two (2) daughters. As the story goes, what was first is now last & by the time it mattered, Enid’s father was dead in the ground & the cacophony of women left behind, responsible for healing the wounds he inflicted.
While reading this book, I was reminded of what it promised me; a story that would comfort readers—the worst thing they had ever done wasn’t so bad. Perhaps it was pessimistic to believe that this story couldn’t achieve what it set out to do. I have been in the world too long to fall prey to the eagerness of what is promised; we are not always so lucky as to see our hopes transform into concrete reality. Rather than take my apprehension personally, this story continued on its course. I am glad that I was allowed along for the ride.
Enid’s life is a strange one & that is not because it is unusual. Rather, Enid’s life is strange because it is palpably tangible. In Enid, I found much of myself & if readers allow for the discomfort of personal recognition, they might too. I can imagine that for Enid, living life in a house that was never a home was difficult, especially because her mother attempted to make it into a place of safety. Yet, both became enshrined by despair; her mother was no match for her mania & Enid, was left alone in the hallways awaiting the latch of the lock holding the bedroom door separating them, in place.
This story deals primarily with mental illness & disorders. Nearly each of the characters is plagued by some form of torment. In this way, Austin has allowed her story to be real. The reality is that many people experience the repercussions of intergenerational trauma; what the reader is faced with in this book is the beginning of what might surely become a long series of pains.
It was admirable to see each woman within this mangled family tree attempt to prevent what they felt could happen. The daughters brought into the world by loving mothers & an angry absent father, offered to each other the promise of comradely. Their efforts were wrought with distress but, most of all, hope.
I was perhaps enamoured with Enid because she experienced much of what I have. Her paranoia & distressing anxiety were home to me in my childhood body & as I grew I became aware that the world was perhaps filled with colours in a palette I could not see with my eyes.
How the author incorporates horrible things into her characters is earnest & I applaud her for that. I am hopeful that that Austin did not live these experiences firsthand hand though, the delicate nature of her storytelling slithers with the possibility that she sees in the dark too. Regardless, her ability to present eager or apprehensive readers will Enid & her life make her an author I will revisit until she decides to write no more; with shelves settled from the stories she held inside.
The exploration of trauma & the denigration of brain matter as a consequence of illness is no easy feat to present. Readers might find themselves utterly upset by the story. It would be entirely acceptable for them to place the book aside, never to weave their hands across its back, ever again.
That is to say; this story is upsetting. Enid is suffering & unable to find her way but, at the same time, she is strong & dangerously forceful in keeping her place in this world. The fact that she climbs through her window to avoid someone, or that she refuses to speak frankly with her mother about her feelings does not dismiss her essence; Enid is a force.
I have written some points relating to Enid’s experiences & the story itself circles these in ways that feel rather trite to recount in a review. I have sat with my thoughts as they relate to this story for some time; what do I think, how do I feel, what is there to say? There are few stories among the thousands that I would simply pass on to others, wanting them rather to read what is written than hear what I have to say.
Austin has a strangely melodramatic way of writing. Her characters are unlikeable & mean; sometimes altogether annoying. Yet, page after page, I could not loosen my grip, because they were human beings too.
The romantic entanglements that took place as a backdrop to the main plot added a layer of dimension that felt authentic. One might relinquish their fear that Austin has simply added lettering for the sake of checking boxes or shades of blue to confuse the sky. Every aspect of this story made sense in that it was relevant.
When Enid sent templated text messages; when she sat in the shower with the person who turned out to be the love of her life; when her mother wore lipstick; & when she thought about space & time; she was Enid & the reader grew to know her as one might any other important person in their life.
Though I have added many sentences of praise, I would not advocate for this book for all readers. I will not shy away from saying that a handful of readers will miss the beauty in this book entirely. I admit that it is not my place to decide for them what is worth their time & what moral they should take away from careful writing. However, it is my place to state that this is a beautiful book. The facet that renders it lovely is the innate & intricate care that the author has brought forth. Readers are lucky to grasp the bind that holds love; the likes of which never disappear for it is in ink & stone.
Where does this leave me & how might I conclude a review that is certainly lacking? While reading this book, I knew that I would not be able to compile all that is of value from this book into a single review. I found Enid’s earnest & tender recollections about special & interesting facts about space familiar & nostalgic.
I wanted to whisper through the pages that life would not be unkind to her forever; tomorrow she would meet the reprieve she surely needed, as I saw it coming down the lines of chapters formatted just for me. Somehow, this experience has left a part of me within the pages.
Humanity is a harsh critic, I will never lie & say that all of my reviews are kind; I have been harsh—nearly cruel in my comparisons & analogies. Words are very important to me. In the silence of hours, the twinkle of the eyes or the breath of a syllable can bring me back to the life I am leading. I have always found books to be among my most precious possessions; the discoveries I cherish like gemstones. When a reader meets a character like Enid whose life is torn apart by what she cannot describe & she is faced with people who cannot see her, the days of existence are very long; I say this from experience.
Austin’s talent for truth & terrible honesty will have readers giggling & gruesomely sad. Enid is an innocent child; an innocent adult; she is an innocent person who placates herself by behaving as a phantom in her life. I cannot fault her for this. She is intelligent & hopeful; she is thoughtful & eager; she tries her best & sometimes, she doesn’t even do that. But above all the mistakes & her horrible incomprehension of existence, Enid remembers the stars & the galaxies & she thinks of them when she wants the people she loves to know that, she is thinking of them too.
The most beautiful thing we have while alive is the knowledge that the entire universe is of its own; we are within it like a beating heart. Enid’s social claustrophobia & transferred revulsion stemming from the shadows in her memory are not cancer to her cells; she has healed in the only way she knows how.
Therefore, I must ask; Who is this story for? Which reader will read the tale of a woman sick from the dark confines inside? Who among us will be eager to know Enid & her flaws? Me.
Ultimately, this is a story about a woman who was once a child in a home where she was scared. Her fear manifested itself into paranoia & a demented sense of self. The loathing murmur of certainty has eaten her alive; no one is seated at the table to witness her cannibalistic demise.
The reader has arrived at what is possibly the most ideal time. The reader will walk through the halls of a silent home, where behind the doors people are crying; terror brooding; rouge wasting; babies growing; the sky darkening; laundry sagging; dishes moulding; & a clock ticking the time passing as though counting down to the final moment when Enid remembers who she is.
Thank you to NetGalley, Simon & Schuster Canada, & Emily Austin for the free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review!