Alice Bliss broke my heart.
(I've been trying, but I can't separate my review of the book from my personal response to it, which necessitates a spoiler. Be forewarned.)
I could write at length about the floodgates of emotions that the book brought to the surface, but it would be rather more than I am comfortable sharing in a public review. Suffice to say, the book hit very close to home for me.
Matt Bliss, an Army reservist, gets called up and deployed to Iraq, leaving his wife Angie and daughters Alice and Ellie behind. The family struggles to deal with Matt's deployment and their feelings of loss in his absence. Matt is obviously the glue that holds the family together, as Angie retreats into herself, leaving Alice, at age fifteen, to take over many of the responsibilities of the household, caring for her sister, and navigating adolescence on her own. Alice, who is particularly close to her father, struggles to keep him as close to her as she can, wearing his clothes, planting the garden they'd planned together, and trying to fix up his workshop before his return.
There wouldn't be a book here without bad news. Matt's letters and phone calls grow more infrequent, and then the Bliss family gets the bad news that he is missing in action.
Alice grows increasingly worried about her beloved father's well-being, and starts imagining the worst even as she hopes against hope and tries to keep up a brave facade for her younger sister's benefit. But the hope is in vain, as one day a soldier and an army chaplain show up at the Bliss house bringing the worst news imaginable.
I lost my own father when I was fifteen. The circumstances were very different -- my father died after a long illness -- but regardless, the book took my breath away. Change a few little details, and it was like looking into a window at my own family and what we went through, right down to my uncle teaching me how to drive because my dad couldn't.
Harrington's portrayal of Alice's emotions is absolutely, to my experience, spot-on. Being a teenager is enough of an emotional rollercoaster even without the absence, nevermind the total loss, of a parent. I remember all too well the conflict I felt during the time surrounding my father's death, wanting desperately to hold on to my childhood, wishing that nothing needed to change, while at the same time looking anxiously forward to the future and all the promise it held.
I was especially touched, in the book, by Alice's relationship with her childhood best friend, Henry, as they tentatively explore their new feelings for each other, Henry acting as Alice's rock as her world shatters around her. The conflicting emotions, the euphoria of first love contrasting with -- and providing a welcome respite from -- the seemingly soul-crushing grief: it rang very true to me. Other reviews I have read question Alice's reactions and behavior; I think that these reviewers are looking at the situation from adult eyes. It's confusing, being old enough to understand completely what's going on, but having neither the experience nor the emotional maturity to really be able to deal with it. Everyone's experiences are different, of course, but Harrington's portrayal of Alice was very real and very raw to me. It's clear, too, that despite it all, Alice will be okay. She is a strong, determined young woman, and part of me wants to revisit her in ten years, in fifteen years, to check in on her. She will be remarkable.
Laura Harrington is a playwright and librettist, and this is her first novel. I'm glad she made the jump -- her writing is lovely and lyrical and there were passages I read over and over again just to savor the language.
All in all, this was a wonderful, if painful, book: your reaction to it may not be as strong as mine was, but still, I recommend tissues.