3.75!
Thank you to Pan Macmillan and NetGalley for the e-arc, all thoughts are my own
Trapped in a Station that guides the souls across the Veil to the world-to-come, Nera is the Station Master’s daughter, neither alive nor dead. Her Father, wrapped in a distance of his own, teaches her to guide the souls, to never look them in the eye or learn their name, and that the Station must always be lit to fend off the Haunts - souls who never made it to the Station to pass. But when Charlie barrels her way onto the ferry of the dead, Nera’s life is changed. She determines to help Charlie find her sister, for closure, if she can help Nera understand why the Station lighthouse keeps dimming.
What follows is a tale with mythological elements, with moments of Greek tragedy a la Orpheus and Eurydice. It’s tender and aiming to pluck at the heartstrings, with a supplementary queer romance that lightens the tale.
This was so close to being the gripping, emotional page turner I wanted. There were moments where the scene unfurled perfectly, the prose hit just right, and the sentiment snagged my heart strings - but there were just a few too many moments when the beauty of the prose overtook the pacing of the actual story. We truly don’t really get any progress on the plot until about 45% in, and while the premise in itself is stunning, and a heart-rending story, and a necessary rumination on powerful questions, keen-edges things that humans don’t like to think about, I wanted more drive in the plot to keep things ticking over and keep me fully present in the depth of it. (But who doesn’t love magic dogs who guide us all to the Veil? Some might say this de-aged the book, but it was a sweet addition and if I get greeted by a grim reaper dog when it’s my time, I’ll be thrilled.)
However, setting that aside, this is undoubtedly a story of grief. Of love. Of the pain of loss and the ease of locking yourself away from pain, but that means locking yourself out of life, too. It is a tender rumination on how to cope when you lose a love one, and the complex, inevitable dance that all living things do with death.
I loved Nera’s compassion, her learned zeal for life. I found her journey from in-between alive and dead to in awe of the world around her charming and sad at the same time. Her reclamation of her own destiny, and her self, was lovely. In contrast, Charlie’s distress, the pain of losing her sister was suitably hard to read at points for how well it conveys the unbearable weight of something unbearably heavy. Their connection felt strained and heavy at times, naturally, as it is occasionally beyond tough to navigate grief - but Nera learns what it means to love, and live, for herself, and offers Charlie the homecoming presence she so desperately needs. Charlie’s slow acceptance of her loss aches in a tangible way, her struggle so cleverly depicted and so believably heavy. But there is always light, always a way out.
I do think, at times, the dedication of the prose to beauty, to Big Ruminations, took a little away from the actual reading experience of this as a book with conflicts and structure and character development and plot points to hit, and threads to pull to unwind the mystery of why there’s a demon in the Water Tower, why there’s a Station that needs a Station Master to guide souls across the Veil, and where Charlie’s sister Sammy is. I understand that this is a great, sweeping exercise in musing on life and love. And that to have one is to inevitably lose it. But when I consider the overall shape of this book, it feels… saggy. Just a little. I also think that every now and then the dialogue clashed with the intense emotional charge of the prose, and de-aged the book a touch.
While I found the flashbacks from the journal that Nera discovers engaging (and painful) and they helped illuminate the present, these threads were lost the further we went on, and they only started giving us backstory about 50% of the way through. I found Nera’s father’s story, for being so central to the plot and the conflict that Charlie and Nera face, was not given the weight it should have been given. I never really felt connected to him as the novel wanted me to, because of the way he’d been written: a plot choice, deliberately made, ensured he was kept emotionally separate from both his past and Nera. I would have liked more depth given back to him, or a bit more depth from him in general, considering his story is why we’re in Nera’s shoes to begin with. I found that the first half of the story’s pacing was slow, eager to spend time on details, on things that said “look, this is emotional” and while, yes, often they were poetic examinations of hard hitting feelings, situations, states of being, the latter half of the novel dwelled on moments of importance for a few lines. There were pivotal events that happened wherein we didn’t even experience them on page (to do with Nera’s father’s past.) And dramatic sequences of events which received a few lines of action compared to the near chapter spent in the Gift Room earlier on in the novel.
It seemed like, at times, the story itself got a little lost in its own sentimentality.
But Charlie’s representation was haunting in itself. This is all about the ghosts we carry, whether they are peaceful or whether they are Haunts with unfinished business. It is about learning to live with pain, with grief, to have unanswered questions and regrets. Charlie is plagued with guilt, and seeing her journey to work through that guilt is a true exploration of how to recover from loss. That’s where the poignancy comes from.
Niggles aside, this was a tender and sad contemporary fantasy, which will undoubtedly be a balm to those who are grieving. It is a sweet first romance (with delightful unexpected Demi rep) with big aspirations and a whole bucket of love as it’s driver. Though I do wish we could lose 50 pages from the beginning half, to make the premise hit with the impact that I think it truly deserves.