
Don't do what I did. Don't read this and WINTERGIRLS back to back. The heart isn't meant to take so much. There's only so much room inside your brain and your heart to hurt with these characters, and both of these books - well, they make you hurt. Not in a bad way, you understand, but in the way that really good writing does, the way it crawls into you and around you and curls up in your lap and raps on your head with its knuckles and whispers into your ear so that weeks later you are still thinking about passages like this:
Yet in these moments of silence and loneliness, it's as though I've stuck my toe in the cold, cold ocean. And I get caught, turned upside down in a riptide as my mind skips over to him all of its own volition. Then comes the instant when I lose my breath and feel the freezing water tumbling, battering, covering me, and it's the most painful tug of my heart, an aching hollowness that never stops, as I remember over and over, like the never-ending waves of the ocean, that I won't ever see him again. He's gone.
Cora's brother Nate was killed in a car accident six months and twenty-three days ago, and her family is...gone. She and her mother and father exist as three separate people, each breathing in the air of their own separate pain. There are no family meals, no family conversations, no shared family pain. Cora's about to start high school and her entire world has fallen apart. She's about to start high school as
Nathaniel Bradley's little sister. It's bad enough being the daughter of parents whose son died, every single minute of every single day, trapped in the house with their overpowering sadness. Now I'll be the girl whose brother died.
And it is as bad as she thinks it will be. She sees Nate's ex-girlfriend practically upon arrival, and a teacher tells her in front of the entire class that he's sorry for her loss. Rachel, her best friend, doesn't seem to know how to act around her anymore, and is newly obsessed with boys and being accepted by a group of girls Cora and Rachel have always called the Nasties. Cora thinks her one oasis will be the advanced art class that she placed into - until she walks into the room and sees Damian Archer. Her brother's best friend. The passenger in the car Nate crashed in the accident that claimed his life.
How can she be in an art class with Damian Archer?
As the weeks pass, though, Cora and Damian form an uneven bond out of their shared pain, and it is from Damian that Cora learns some real truths about her brother - some truths that tell her she never really knew him, and make her pain both worse and better. Somehow Cora needs to find the strength to pick up the pieces of her life, and hopefully help to put her family back together in the process. Her mother seems to see her only as something to be protected at any cost, while her father has all but withdrawn from the family altogether.
Cora hatches a plan to show everyone the truth about who Nate really was, to exonerate Damian of any blame in her brother's accident, to help liberate her family from some of their crushing pain, and to set her own feet on the path toward the future she has begun to crave.
During the summer, a free map of the world arrived in the mail. Cora hung it in her room and began to dream of escaping the pain and horror of her daily existence. This morphed into what would be her primary artistic outlet: the creation of her own maps, elaborate imaginings of where she might run to were she able to run. She decides to map her own world, Nate's world, the world that they knew both separately and together, and hopes that the map will eventually lead her --and all of them -- home.
It is hard to do this book justice. It is hard to explain to you with my insufficient words just how magnificently Sandell has crafted this story. When you are in Cora's house with her family, you are aching for them. With them. Even her simplest words are evocative - when Cora's father arrives home every night, one of the first aural clues Cora gets to his presence is the
clink, clink, clink of three ice cubes as he mixes his first gin and tonic of the night. If this were a fantasy novel you would call what Sandell does "world-building," but the world she builds could be real. It feels real. She has crafted exquisite internal
and external lives for Cora. It is not something many authors are good at. Good is, again, an insufficient word for what Sandell has done here.
This is, for me, one of the best novels of the year so far. It is one of the best things I have read in the last several years. I will pass this book on to friends and warn them that they will hurt mightily right along with Cora and her family, but that in the end, her map will guide us to a resolution that is more than satisfying.