Book Review: Foster by Claire Keegan

In FOSTER, a father drops off his daughter with distant relations for an indeterminate length of time; money is tight, children are many, and a new baby is on the way. This girl experiences a substitute family, an alternate way of living. John and Edna Kinsella, themselves childless, attempt to draw her into their daily routines, even as their own unspoken grief is at the edges.

Claire Keegan is masterful at working with language and finding a setting to match her aim, telling what feels on the surface like a sparsely written, straightforward story, but there is a richness to the novella, so that in these pages, almost without realizing, without notice, a deceptively simple story is found to be rich in heart. What does it mean to shepherd a child, to teach them and care for them? How do we find strength to be vulnerable, to connect with another? What does it look like to unconditionally love another?

The emotions are expansive and readers are broken open at the end. After the closing words, I took a deep breath and just sat in the moment, wishing I had someone nearby who'd also read it so we could discuss it.

(I received a digital ARC from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for my honest review.)

Book Review: Lucy by the Sea

While literature can be an escape from current events, it can also be a vehicle to help process the world around us. To that end, Elizabeth Strout uses the backdrop of the COVID-19 pandemic to revisit the story of Lucy Barton and her ex-husband William in Lucy by the Sea. At William's urging, they leave New York City to shelter in Maine.

Lucy is the perfect character for Strout to place in such a situation; her naïveté, her second-guessing, her genuine feelings of confusion and frustration can mirror our own experiences of the transformative time. The fear, the unknowing, the concern, the drudgery, the safety, the annoyances and impatiences are revisited through fiction and it doesn't feel like a forced, unnatural setting for Lucy to find herself in. We can all relate when Lucy says, "This will end, I kept thinking. This will have to end. And every night it did not end, or indicate in any way that it would ever end."

Though the pandemic certainly directs some of the actions in the book, and George Floyd's death and the aftermath is also pulled in, Lucy is also caught up in finding ways to safely connect with neighbors, to support her daughters, to consider what is genuine, when it is worth taking risks.

While I first avoided this title, not sure if I was interested in reading already about the pandemic in fiction, I'm grateful I reconsidered. This was a beautiful framing, and there was something cathartic in seeing Lucy experience the muddled head, her inability to read, her grief and anxiety, to recognize those realities were true for me, too, once, but be grateful I'm no longer caught in that moment. It wasn't even three years ago, and I still have to pause when I realize how my daughters didn't set foot in a school building for an entire year. How did we do it?! I'm grateful for having been together and grateful to be on this side of an uncertain time. Lucy By the Sea is a notable, dare I even say welcome, account of an unsettling experience, to allow us to remember and mark the moment and take stock on what we lost, what we gained, what we learned.

(I received a digital ARC from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for my honest review.)

Book Review: This Here Flesh

THIS HERE FLESH by Cole Arthur Reilly is a stunning achievement. Her words are a gift that, time and again, wrecked me in the most beautiful ways.

The fifteen chapters are framed around insights on dignity, place, belonging, fear, lament, liberation, and more. Arthur Reilly's vulnerability in sharing insights gained from physical limitations, from being a Black woman of faith, and her transparency when discussing her Gramma and her father, lead to deep reflections. 

Time and again, I found myself near tears, or openly crying (not a familiar response). As I reflected on this reaction, occurring across different days and weeks, I think it's due to how refreshing such honesty is, how welcoming to read the hope, to have her name truths. The phrase "defiant rootedness," for example, so perfectly captures the idea of perseverance and hope in spite of all, the insistence of one's worth and determination to remain. 

Some books you meet at the right moment, and at a time when I've been more introspective and reflective, this has been a perfect companion, a welcome balm when things have felt fragile and uncertain in the world. 

(I received a digital ARC from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for my honest review.)