I love a good, sad book. A real weepie is all my joy. I’ll try to avoid reading them, I’ll say, “oh, I’m not really in the mood for reading that,” but the truth is, a book that can bring on a nice, cleansing cry is pretty much always up my alley. And you guys, this book is so sad. I lost count of my Kleenex. And, ok, I have a cold, so let’s handicap the first 5. There were still at least 5 tear-filled Kleenex by my bedside table when I was done (also, I am a terrible housekeeper. Pity my tidy husband.).
What’s so sad? London is grieving the loss of her beloved big brother (older by a year, barely) and best friend, Zach. They grew up as the kids of globe-trotting missionaries, then settled down in Florida, where they met & fell for their first loves at about the same time. Now Zach is dead, under circumstances that don’t become totally, horribly clear til nearly page 300, and not only is London at sea without her closest friend, confidant and ally, but her normally loving dad is distant and her mom is somehow both vacant and hostile. It’s a terrible burden for a girl who needs her parents so badly, and Williams is good at making us feel both London’s gaping loss and at giving us glimpses of the distinct awfulness of losing a child that her parents are suffering.
This story of one kind of life coming to a close and another one — a sadder, more difficult kind of life, but one full of hope, friendship and love, too — beginning is moving and compulsively readable, but it is not particularly literary.