The pacing in the first half of the book is painfully languid, littered with one too many opaque hints of trauma and violence. As Roy coyly obfuscates the reasons behind everyone’s erratic angst...it is never clear whose pain and what scars these hints refer to ... When Roy depicts the ugliness in motherhood, that her writing truly shines: There’s no tidy healing, no magical embrace that washes away the hideousness of memory.
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