Booklife Review
When the family returns home after a failed search for Brian's body, Jensen paints their world in melancholic, cinematic strokes, poignantly capturing the agony that comes with seeing traces of Brian everywhere—his books, artwork, trinkets, and the glaring emptiness of his chair at the kitchen table, as she wonders, "could this house ever again herald joy?" Erika, also, struggles to process her emotions, reliving memories with her brother, taking his belongings, and sublimating to her doll, who is "looking for her brother." As Jensen’s husband Oskar retreats further into his sorrow, the couple struggles to stay connected, all while devoting their attention and love to parenting Erika.
The narrative feels bottled up at times, but Jensen’s sadness is palpable throughout, as she delves into how grief strains their family, proving that "no one can grieve for another" and recounting how their coping methods and attempts to find some kind of normalcy threaten to drive their family apart. At its core, this contemplative memoir seeks closure, wrestling with the need for forgiveness amid a sense of guilt from failing to save a loved one. The conclusion, though steeped in sorrow, feels necessary, imbued with an enduring love that renders this tragic tale paradoxically hopeful.
Takeaway: Pensive, heartbreaking memoir of losing a son in a tragic accident.
Comparable Titles: Sonali Deraniyagala's Wave, Elizabeth Alexander's The Light of the World.
Production grades
Cover: A
Design and typography: A-
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: B+
Marketing copy: A-