This book is a love song to the grieving, the broken, the unseen—but be warned it is not a gentle one. Two teenaged more-than-friends cling to each other as they navigate trying to keep hope alive and learn forgiveness (of self and others) in the wake tragedy. Their love story is complex and beautiful—a slow and careful peeling back of layers until they see each other and themselves clearly. Also, they have excellent taste in music and corny jokes.
How can you heal when you're still being haunted?
In a Minneapolis bookstore a ghost haunts a bookseller who already carries the burdens of her past. Buried history of colonialist traumas haunt her community—structures of power and violence haunt a country. With her loving and devastating prose Erdrich presents a portrait of 2019-2020 and winds her waya around grief and trauma, love, motherhood, isolation and community, and indigenous identity.
The things that always draw me to Erdrich's work are fully at work in this novel: her poetic interweaving of the natural and supernatural (like magical realism but organic), her characters so vivid you feel that you recognize them from somewhere, her sentences so beautifully full and sharp they hurt.