Now available.
Let me preface my review by saying that this is a book that most of my friends LOVED. So, I am definitely an outlier with my three of five stars rating.
Why are there such sharp delineations among ratings on this novel? I think it's the writing style. Perhaps Kirkus Reviews says it best:
𝘏𝘢𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘬’𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵-𝘰𝘯-𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘥. 𝘛𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘰𝘤𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘥, 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘬—𝘦𝘳, 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭.
I think that's a fair assessment. I should also mention that the chapters, as such, are unusually short, many less than a page, and some only a sentence. It can feel a little choppy. There is a possibility that this is to reflect the nonlinear process of dealing with loss, but I'm not sure. The structure is definitely experimental, combining elements of traditional narrative with poetry and even play writing.
To explain the style: it's a bit sentimental, even cloying. It either appeals to you or it doesn't. There's not much in-between. After the novel prints, I will give a couple of examples here:
𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘞𝘳𝘦𝘯, 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵, 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘺.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮.
Habeck interrogates questions about what makes us human. In particular, the author delves into how much the essence and character of being human might change through physical and emotional transmogrification. Is the state of being human a matter of degree, or is it a zero sum definition? How do our relationships with each other and with the natural world affect who we are?
The story begins with the tender courtship and joining together of Wren and Lewis. Shortly after they marry, Lewis receives a terrifying diagnosis, one which will forever change him, and which threatens to break the couple's bond.
It is not lost on the reader that the time span for Lewis' dramatic change is nine months, an obvious reference to pregnancy and birth. Lewis is becoming something new, birthing a new self, and perhaps an entirely new identity. How much of his "humanness" will he retain? The author seeks answers to how we are able to adapt to incredible changes, and how we can both retain our identity and still build a meaningful life.
The whole experience is not only devastating for Wren, but also forces her to confront events from her own early life which have irrevocably changed her. Immediately, we are reminded of the randomness of life events juxtaposed with destiny and fate. Which exerts more force upon us? And can we ever completely escape?
Besides the philosophical focus of the book, there is also a stream of spirituality which runs through the whole narrative. It is clear that Wren and Lewis see themselves as something greater as a couple, than they are as individuals. Each makes the other wiser, more aware, more in tune with the natural world, even more expressively poetic. They deeply believe that they were meant to be together, that nothing could have stopped their union.
Whether or not the reader sees themselves in either character, we certainly recognize the types of personalities they portray, especially Wren. We've all known that woman who is incredibly organized, always on time, tidy and neat, who has unimpeachable integrity and is scrupulous about fairness.
When Lewis receives his puzzling and devastating diagnosis, he reacts as many people do: thinking that not admitting it will make it less real, less scary. No amount of avoidance or positive attitude can change the diagnosis. And like anyone with a life changing condition, Lewis is determined to wrestle some control from the process. He is an actor. Of course he wants to be the director.
Wren has so many skills, yet not one of her safe and well-thought-out strategies will help in this situation. Lewis had always expanded his life with lofty dreams. Wren had always insulated herself by exercising extreme caution, and by consciously avoiding risks. Wren wants to believe that if she tries to be perfect, nothing bad will happen to her.
How does the couple cope? They both find solace in the beauty and magnetic pull of the natural world.
I was a little disappointed that the narrator seemed to be telling Lewis and Wren's entire story: how the characters felt, what they were thinking and why, etc. I longed for the characters to express how they felt with their own actions. Also, all the bouncing around: time periods, memories, brief side characters, felt like a lack of cohesiveness.
When the novel turned to Angela's story, the writing style changed. Angela's backstory was more linear, straightforward, and surprisingly tender. The characters of Theresa, Julia, and George, were particularly heartwarming. I had a much greater attachment to them than anyone in the first half of the novel.
I kept waiting for the story to veer into truly dangerous territory. To paraphrase Chekov, if you introduce razor-sharp teeth, you have to use them. There is a a scene where this happens halfway, but mostly the narrative keeps far from the edges.
The message of the novel seems to be that connection is the way to heal from grief, that life is about risk, but worth it, in the end. The woman who thought she could protect herself by not taking the risk to love, learns that she really can't live without love.
There are some excellent ideas here, but the execution of them is not only unusual and a bit jumpy, but also a little too cautious, which is ironic, considering the overall message.
Thank you to NetGalley and MARYSUE RICCI BOOKS, an imprint of Simon & Schuster, for providing a digital galley of this novel for review.