There are as many books on grieving as there are ways to grieve. Some books, whether self-help, memoirs, or novels, have an agenda to assist the reader through the grieving process. Hemmings’ novel, however, doesn’t overreach, patronize, or even subtly attempt to provide lessons in grief or a helping hand. Instead, it is an engaging character study of specific people going through a universal process in very personal ways. It isn’t narrated in a maudlin or elegiac voice, or expressed through histrionics. Rather, the voice is frank, natural, and entirely authentic.
It took a few chapters to settle in, because I was thrust into the story in the midst of things (in media res) rather than with a preamble or introduction. Hemmings gently reveals the recent and past history of her characters by immersing you in present day matters. Moreover, circumstances at hand hint at conduits to the future. The author is skilled at evincing a moment with a narrow lens, and then gradually expanding the scope of the story into a mature and contoured portrait.
Sarah St John is the main character. Three months ago, she lost her twenty-two year old son, Cully, in an avalanche while he was skiing in their hometown of Breckenridge, Colorado. Cully was an only child, and Sarah never married his father, although they remain on amicable terms. Her best friend, Suzanne, is a reluctant divorcée, mourning over the ex-husband she still loves. Her daughter, Morgan, was Cully’s best friend.
Sarah’s father retired from Breckenridge’s ski resort industry last year and temporarily moved in with Sarah and Cully, but he hasn’t left. He’s wrestling with the tragic death of his grandson and the ennui that retirement created. Years ago, he lost a wife, Sarah’s mother, when Sarah was five. He never remarried. Still handsome, in his lugubrious way, he copes with emptiness via a fixation on QVC television.
In the meantime, Sarah considers leaving her job as a co-host on “Fresh Tracks,” a taped show that is aired in all the best hotels and resorts in the area. At one time she aimed to be a serious reporter, but a surprise pregnancy at twenty-one ended that, and Cully began. Right now, she’s contending with uncertainty--beginnings, endings, and a tug of war in the middle. Hemmings does a stellar job of illuminating several conflicts in one scene. Suzanne longs for support, but Sarah’s loss of a son competes and eclipses Suzanne’s divorce. In the thick of grief, seeds of weary judgment, sharp resentment, and entitlement obtrude. And the guilt impinges.
“Guilt came for feeling hungry, for having that sensation. It came from yawning, from putting on make-up, dressing nicely. It came when I felt sexual desire…feeling so awful that…I still felt anything at all. The body just keeps going. It doesn’t care what you’re up to. I remember how guilty I felt for not buying him the most expensive urn.”
Enter a young, enigmatic woman named Kit, who offers to shovel Sarah’s driveway. Her comely youth and mien ignite a spark of generosity in both Sarah and her father, a spirited sense of congenial familiarity. As the story progresses, recovery takes a turn toward redemption. But something more than redemption, too--clarity, connection, and the balance of experience flicker; recurrence and a dynamic kinship evolve and involve all the characters. I did predict and anticipate some plot points, but the journey here is what is sublime. And, don’t be so sure of the destination until you reach the end. And even then, the possibilities are endless…
“Something is breaking in me, but instead of feeling broken, I feel as if something better is building in its place.”