In this coming-of-age novel, LaCour heartachingly captures the paradox of such an experience one in which a unique loneliness begets an almost overwhelming internal expansiveness. What does it mean to go through a tragedy that destroys you? What does it mean when you are changed deeply and immutably, but still need to go on living your life like everything is normal? We follow her flashbacks and dissociations to piece together the mystery of what has torn this girl apart and, crucially, how she can come back together again. We were innocent enough to think that our lives were what we thought they were, that if we placed all of the facts about ourselves together they’d form an image that made sense – that looked like us when we looked in the mirror, that looked like our living rooms and our kitchens and the people who raised us – instead of revealing all the things we didn’t know (128). Without revealing too much, Marin is haunted by the ghost of her grandfather’s passing, and all the weight that carries for a traumatized girl who is struggling to understand who she is against the broken foundation of who she thought she was.

From Marin’s perspective, we cover the three days over her winter break that she shares with Mabel in what sounds like the emptiest, loneliest dorm ever, and which she calls “home”. This cover is the perfect illustration for the story of Marin, a college freshman who is briefly entertaining Mabel, a beloved and estranged figure from a life that she used to know. In this context, what does it mean that this girl stands staring out at one of the loneliest sights one can know: the empty horizon? What is she looking for? If we think about the usual mental association of college as a community space where privacy might well not exist, the juxtaposition is even more jarring. As she stands among her messy belongings in rumpled pajamas, everything about this girl seems lonely. She faces away from us and her world is a stark contrast of pink surveying an empty blue landscape and a black sky. The gorgeous cover illustration depicts a girl standing on her dorm bed, arm raised, covering her eyes from an unseen sun as she stares out over a dark shore.

I found this short novel by completely ignoring the adage about books and their covers, and I am so glad for it. Not to be dramatic, but we need to start this review with a common understanding stated outright: this novel is beautiful.

We are okay with