When their mother dies, aged 51(?) year old twins, Julius and Jeanie must face an absolutly punishing reckoning. They are marginalized from society, a part of a community that others them. They themselves are unwilling, probably unable, really, to participate in it, should they wish to regardless because their mother has exercise a unilateral, crueler than they know hold over their lives. They are impoverished, Jeanie cannot read and write, and therefor is precluded from most jobs. Julius is the only earner and it’s all cash-money doing unreliable odd jobs, which he has proved unreliable at performing.

Their mother dying, then, presents problems: how to pay for her burial. How to bury her at all? Their mother seems to have borrowed money now owing, yet their utilities are off. Their very notions of how they are living—and therefor life itself, one could argue—are challenged constantly. And it’s rendered so well I was constant anxious myself. Especially now, after COVID, with so many jobs and home lives in turmoil, it hits close to home. Perhaps too close, for some.

This all creates stakes fairly masterfully. They are, for some, very low bars. But they’re a never ending horizon for these twins unable to negotiate society, relying too heavily upon their mum and a never ending continuity. And on top of that: Secrets. Of which there are many and ranged and unearthed just as mother is going in the ground. Sometimes before she has.

This is moving, affective, and sly. The characters are distinct in voice, as is the authorial voice itself. There isn’t that much fiction about people this age; certainly not about people of this age who have accrued little-to-no-agency in life, in this manner. I think it works well as a piece to ruminate on trauma and the kind of tyranny only parents can wield. The casual cruelty people can inflict on one another when othering is possible is much more than a defect. And there is a spiral that people in poverty know all too well. Some events begin a cascade. This one, in particular, though wrapped in verisimilitude, packs quite the punch. From start to finish it can be a bit of a descent. But it is worth it, in my opinion.