Melancholic yet captivating and hopeful.  Teenage years interrupted by grief.  A life shaped by overcoming loss.  But mostly, a love letter to a sister.  

 

Little sisters have a way of idolizing big sisters.  Sally was only 3 years younger than Kathy, but those extra few years combined with Sally’s total adoration allowed Kathy to guide Sally as she matured.  Or she did until Kathy suddenly died in a tragic accident.  Without Kathy, Sally was left rudderless.  Lost and adrift.  

 

The book is narrated by Sally as she talks to Kathy, her internal dialogue laid bare detailing the depth of emotion that spans more than a decade as she grapples with the loss.  

 

Espach masterfully utilized first person POV to vividly entrench me into Sally’s inner monologue.  Every emotion she experienced was so vividly portrayed that I felt it alongside Sally.  The conflict between being crippled by grief and living a full life was intense and wholly relatable.  As the story progressed and Sally’s voice evolved, I became more deeply connected to her, fully invested in her life and her healing. 

 

The slower pace of the story felt fitting to this intimate and raw exposition on grief.  The journey was intricate in nature, showcasing the full arc of the stages and emotions.  While much of the novel is drenched in sorrow, lighter moments and an overall sense of hope created balance.  

 

While the symbolism in the story’s conclusion worked, the open-endedness of it left me wanting.  After feeling so deeply connected with Sally, I was desperate for more.  And yet maybe no ending could properly match the emotion the rest of the novel evoked.  

 

This novel has sat deeply with me after my own recent experiences with loss.  It was cathartic in a way I didn’t even know I needed.    

 

I enjoyed the physical copy of this book most, but the audiobook narrated by Jesse Villinsky is excellently done and gave a distinct voice to Sally and her grief.  

 

Thank you @henryholtbooks and @macmillan.audio for the #gifted copies.