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368 pages, Hardcover
First published February 7, 2017
The first time I meet Patrick Braddock, I’m wearing his wife’s lipstick. The color is exactly wrong for me. Deep, ripe plum, nearly purple, the type of harsh shade that beautiful women wear to prove they can get away with anything. Against my ordinary features, the lipstick is as severe as a bloodstain. I feel like a misbehaving child trying on her mother’s makeup.Eurydice rents by the hour, but not in the usual way. She is a body, gainfully employed by the Elysian Society. When she takes a certain pill, called a lotus, she becomes a channel to the afterlife, a link between the living and the expired. Parents miss their child? Children miss their parents? Spouses, relatives, friends, lovers miss the loved ones who have ceased to be? Come on down. (No mention of anyone missing their Norwegian Blue) For the duration of the session the body is inhabited, by someone else’s spirit, allowing the living to spend time with one who has passed on.
In the photo of Sylvia Braddock that lies on my bedroom floor, the lipstick looks perfect


„I haven’t belonged to myself for years; working at the Elysian Society, I see my body as an object on permanent loan. A door without a lock.”
Unnamed Narrator (she goes by nom de guerre “Edie,” short for Eurydice, the name assigned to her by her employer) works for the Elysian Society, where the bereaved can visit their departed loved ones in a living person’s body. For UN, the job is bliss, as possession allows her to be literally gone from her own body, her non-life, and the past she never wants to think about again. She doesn’t have to care about any of these people or their losses, either. But then handsome Patrick Braddock, a young widower, starts talking to his wife Sylvia through UN, and UN finds herself drawn into their seemingly perfect lives … and not quite able to separate herself from Sylvia.I’m not sure how to rate this book. On the one hand, it’s an okay literary novel, with a really admirable and brave ending that made up a bit for some of its flaws . On the other hand, I read it because I thought it was going to be a genre novel. And by that measure, it’s seriously weak, with a complete fail at worldbuilding. I’ve read too many books in the past few years that have a single fantastical element that’s just kind of there -- not explored, not thought through, and more distracting rather than really adding anything to the story. This is another on that list.
"What kind of person would agree to be the vessel for the love of strangers, day in and day out?"
"For a crooked second, Sylvia is in the room with me. A drowned specter, white skin peeling away like fruit rind, eyelids eaten into filigree by the fish. And then the impression slips sideways and I become the drowned woman. My skin waterlogged and dripping, hanging in tatters around me."
"The first encounter is always delicate, a tricky dance that must conceal its very trickiness. It's my job to feel out the clients' moods without them realizing I'm doing so. Some pretend it's all a joke; some are suspicious, hostile, waiting for the figure to emerge from behind the curtain; some are painfully earnest, willing it all to go smoothly. But at first, all of them, are terrified."
"Even my kindest clients have a certain manner of meeting my eyes, before or after encounters. It still stands out to me sometimes. The sensation of being looked at so searchingly, vacillating between familiarity and disappointment. Just waiting for me to become somebody else."
"I’m overwhelmed by the thought of all the women who would pour out of me if I were cracked open: swarming like insects, bubbling out of my mouth. The women who have collected inside me over the years, filling up my insides until there’s no room left for me."