A slowcooked comfort of a book--
this is a story that takes its time, and is better for it.
Equal parts a study in grief, a celebration of family, and the reality of growing up, reading this book was like a dining experience in which the chef suggests something off the menu that completely hits the spot. Best of all, the ending manages to be satisfying without the bittersweet, purposefully leaving room for the reader to take hold of what happens after the last page.
It's so dense; there is as much light as there is darkness, and through it all, the author skillfully encapsulates emotions and interactions that deeply resonate:
"This is how people live," Olivia said out loud, and felt, not for the first time, that her family had not remotely prepared her to grasp the brokenness of the rest of the world. (252)
Olivia waited until the familiarity of each shape had hurt her as much as it could, until there were no surprises left in the generous bottom loop of a g or the sight of all those f's and h's, t's and l's leaning like top-heavy trees over lesser letters that crouched below-- the vowels especially vulnerable, flattened in the breeze, utterly dependent on context for their identity. (93)
She kept talking in spite of herself, in spite of the uncertainty that now yawned before her like a cave-- she talked because she absolutely refused to step forward into its shadow. (240)