“How deep in our genes is the longing for flight embedded? We always were a species of nomads.” ( )

A young woman is abducted by her father and they almost never stop traveling as she’s followed by a private investigator hired by her mother. Her boyfriend goes to Montreal to find her. Strange details (why did her mom cover a window and pick up broken glass before the police arrived?) appear throughout that come together in the end. My problem is there’s an awful lot of philosophizing that doesn’t change anything about the story. This could / should have been a short story and I think it would have been better for it. It felt muddled with all the extraneous parts that just felt like they were filling space. I even waited a long time to write a review to see if I felt differently later on. Nope. It was a short book but not short enough. I’m still ready to give another book I have by her a try. ( )

When I was a teenager my family took a trip up to Quebec on vacation one year. I came back home with a t-shirt that I often wore for many years that bore the province's motto - "Je me souviens", meaning "I remember". A touch ironic for me, not only because I refused to use any of my embarrassing high school level French while we were there, but also because I did not remember those French speaking Acadian ancestors of mine who were expelled from Canada after the British conquest in the 18th century and who were forced to flee to Louisiana. I found that history out later.

It's also ironic for one of the main characters in this fantastic debut novel. Lilia was abducted by her father from his ex-wife when she was seven. She does not remember her life in the small Quebec town near the American border before the abduction. She does not remember why she has these scars on her arms. She does not remember her mother. She does not remember why her half-brother tells her "never come home". She and her father spend the next nine years fleeing from Quebec - always traveling, changing names, hiding from discovery. It's an anxious way to live and grow up.

But she never felt at ease in the world. It couldn't be claimed that she was really a part of it, and from the specific night when her memories began (ice against window, lost bunny, snow), the traditions of the world were foreign to her. She picked up what she could from books and television shows, noting carefully the existence of two-parent families, houses, schools, family dogs, memorizing intriguingly home-specific phrases like latchkey kid and back garden and state-of-the-art kitchen appliances and basement. She moved over the surface of life the way figure skaters move, fast and choreographed, but she never broke through the ice, she never pierced the surface and descended into those awful beautiful waters, she was never submerged and she never learned to swim in those currents, these currents: all the shadows and light and splendorous horrors that make up the riptides of life on earth.

Then as a young woman she receives a letter from Montreal - come and I will tell you what you don't remember. It's information wanted for information to give. There will be remembering and wishing for never knowing. One person will emerge okay. One person will not. One person will be spun out by the chaotic turbulence unleashed.

Ultimately for me it's a sad novel, but well worth reading. I really felt for all of the characters in these pages; add to that success the wonderful writing and I was completely hooked into this one. ( )

Whew. Mandel is so magical with language. Very compelling and slightly surreal in a very good way. ( )

The author's first book, but for some reason I'd missed it until now, having read everything else she's written. I'm glad to be caught up - this one is also a great read, if deeply sad on a whole host of levels. ( )