These Things Hidden, Heather Gudenkauf

Adolescence is a time of transition, a time in a child's life when they are not yet adults, but not really children.  This makes it a challenge to decide how to deal with them-finding a balance between supervision and freedom, support and independence, is something that parents and society struggle with.  And when the adolescent commits a crime, we as a society have trouble finding that balance-are they children who cannot be held accountable for their choices, or are they adults who have defied societal standards and must be punished.  I was reminded of this dilemma while reading Heather Gudekauf's novel These Things Hidden.

These Things Hidden interweaves the lives of four women-Allison, Brynn, Charm, and Claire.  Five years earlier, 16 year old Allison was convicted of manslaughter in the death of her newborn infant.  Released from prison early, she goes to a half-way house and tries to reconnect with her sister, Brynn.  Brynn, who at 15 was with her sister on that awful night, has borne the brunt of the fall-out of her sister's crime.  Emotionally fragile, bearing the guilt of the infant's death, she struggles to get through each day.  Charm, a 20 year old college student, carries a secret that makes it difficult for her to deal with the imminent death of her step-father.  Claire, a bookstore owner, marvels daily at the miracle that brought her son Joshua into her life-after years of trying to have a child, she and her husband adopted Joshua after he was left at the fire station as a newborn.  None of these women know it, but Joshua is the one thing that connects them all.


Told in the first person by Allison and Brynn, with chapters in the third person for Charm and Claire, this book is about more than just the fairness of holding a 16 year old responsible for the death of her child.  It is about family, what it means to be a mother, a sister, a caregiver.  Allison and Brynn's parents appeared perfect from the outside, giving their girls every advantage.  But emotionally there was very little connection in their family, and when first Allison and then Brynn disappoint them, their parents turn away from them.  Charm's mother collected men like trading cards for many years, and Charm feels much closer to her stepfather Gus than to her biological parents.  Obviously simply giving birth to a child does not make a person a parent.  Claire and her husband are excellent parents to Joshua, but they live with the fear at the back of their mind that his biological parents could show up and ruin their happiness.  Gudenkauf paints a portrait of love and guilt and fear and love again through the stories of these women and the ways they are connected to Joshua, and to each other.  This novel is women's fiction at its best.  Not overly sentimental or sappy, with no easy solutions, the book explores relationships and family in a way that is insightful and engaging.

The Leftovers, Tom Perrotta

Have you ever been driving down the road and come upon a car with the bumper sticker that reads, "In case of rapture this car will be unmanned"?  For a while they were real popular here in southern Chicagoland, and every time I saw one I thought the same thing, How arrogant! Granted, as an atheist I don't really believe in the Rapture or heaven, but from what I know about the teachings of Jesus somehow I find it hard to believe that he would be in favor of his followers assuming that just by believing in him they get a free pass to heaven when the Apocalypse happens.  Wasn't he all about good works and loving your neighbor and turning the other cheek and all that?  What would happen if suddenly millions of people worldwide disappeared in a Rapture-like event but the supposedly devout faithful weren't necessarily among them?

This event and its aftermath are the backdrop for Tom Perrotta's latest book, The Leftovers.  One October morning millions of people all over the world, of all races, cultures, and religions, simply disappeared.  Vanished without a trace.  One minute you are sitting next to your best friend on the couch, the next instant-gone.  Some people lost their whole family in the blink of an eye, other families stayed intact but lost friends and colleagues.  There appeared to be no rhyme or reason to the disappearances, which led those trying to recover from the loss to find different ways to cope.  The novel follows one family and their attempts to make sense of what seems like a senseless event.  Kevin and Laurie and their children Jill and Tom  were living the American dream.  Kevin was a successful businessman, Laurie a busy stay-at-home mom.  Jill and Tom were both honors students, and Tom has just left for Syracuse University when the Sudden Departure, as the world soon called it, occurred.  Three years later, Laurie is a member of a cult called the Guilty Remnant, Jill has shaved her head and nearly failed out of school, and Tom has disappeared into the organization of a faith "healer" who gained fame by hugging away the pain of those left behind.  Kevin tries desperately to keep some semblance of normalcy going while trying to give everyone he loves time to recover from what happened to them all.

The narrative structure of this novel is of the every-chapter-from-a-different-POV variety, which I know bothers some people, but it works in this book because it allows Perotta to examine the various personal emotional reactions of the people affected by the Sudden Departure of their friends and family.  Aside from the family listed above, we also see the point of view of a woman named Nora, who lost her entire family-husband and two kids-in the time it took for her to go to the kitchen for a rag to wipe up a spill.  The depth of her grief feels boundless-to her and to the reader.  Her unsuccessful attempts to move on from the event illustrate just how difficult it can be to move forward when everything you thought you knew is taken away.

Perrotta does an admirable job imagining how different types of people would react to such an impossible-seeming occurrence.  The loss, and ultimately the not knowing, drive people to extremes.  Some turn to religious cults who claim to understand "god's" plan and to provide answers that people seek.  Some frenetically try to return to normal, diving into the same mindless consumerism that existed prior to the Departure.  Some turn to drugs or alcohol or sex as a way to dull their pain.  But the book does not dwell only on the sadness and loss-to me the book's message speaks to the human ability to survive, to the unique capacity of human beings to adapt to new circumstances, to the idea that even in a world where the old rules have been turned on their head, people can and will begin to create order from the chaos.

Still Alice, Lisa Genova

I freely admit that a large part of my identity is defined by my not inconsiderable smarts.  When I was in elementary school, I was the stereotypical teacher's pet.  I easily comprehended the lessons, I always finished my work before everyone else, and I frequently had my nose buried in a book.  This caused me to be teased by the other students quite a bit (fourth grade was particularly brutal), and I was often alone.  In my moments of hurt and anger, I often comforted myself by telling myself that the other kids might be bigger and meaner, but I was smarter!  That defense mechanism from elementary school has lasted into adulthood.  No one is picking on me for being smart and loving to read and learn, but the ability to do all of those things has remained central to my own perception of who I am.

But imagine that the intelligence and knowledge that has become such a central part of my identity were suddenly fading, not because of old age or a freak accident, but slowly and inexorably due to early-onset Alzheimer's Disease.  This is exactly the fate that befalls the main character in the novel Still Alice by Lisa Genova.  Alice Howland is a 50ish Harvard psychology professor, ironically an expert in linguistics and the acquisition of language, when she begins having lapses in memory.  She chalks it up to stress and overwork-until the day that she gets lost three blocks from home.  She consults a neurologist, who gives the stunning and completely unexpected diagnosis of early-onset Alzheimer's disease.  Alice is completely taken aback-what will become of her teaching, her research, her speaking engagements?  As she and her family struggle to make sense of her diagnosis, she designs a daily test for herself.  She will ask herself five questions, and the day that she has trouble remembering the answers will be the day that she ends her life.  But with her memory fading fast and her family taking care of her, will she be able to keep her dignity and make her own choice?

Genova did a good job creating the character of Alice.  Using first person narrative allowed the reader to go along on the journey with her, and frankly it was terrifying.  Alice goes through the stereotypical stages of grief-denial, anger, depression, bargaining, and acceptance-and at each stage I was able to imagine myself in her shoes.  The way that Alice is written evoke empathy and not just sympathy in the reader, which in this particular kind of story is more important than a cerebral analysis. 

Genova also used Alice and her situation to highlight certain issues releated to Alzheimer's disease.  She makes a point to bring forward the genetic nature of the disease, and in fact Alice and her children are tested for the defective gene, only to discover that her daughter Anne, currently in her late 20s, is sure to develop the disease.  Alice, released from her responsilibities at Harvard and at a loss for what to do next, realizes there is a need for a support group not just for the caregivers of people with Alzheimer's, but for the sufferers themselves.  She even makes an impassioned speech at an Alzheimer's conference about remembering the humanity of the person behind the symptoms.

While this book packed a great deal of emotional punch, it is not exactly subtle in its theme-people who have Alzheimers are still people, and they know what is happening to them (at least for a while), and they should be treated in such a way that their dignity and pride is preserved.  Alice's suicide plan creates an interesting point for discussion, which makes it a decent book club selection.  That said, when I finished reading I felt a little bit like, "All that build-up for THAT!"  I was not a fan of the ending, but that didn't really take away from my enjoyment of the novel as a whole.  If you don't mind being sad on your vacation, this would actually make a decent spring break or summer read-it's easy and fast, but still has substance.

What the Dead Know, Laura Lipman

Laura Lipman can usually be counted on to provide a mystery that is more than a mystery.  Her intricate plots are always just as much about love, family, and the difficult choices we make as they are about solving a crime.  What the Dead Know is no exception.

What the Dead Know is the story of the Bethany sisters-two young girls who disappeared without a trace in the summer of 1975.  Thirty years later, a woman turns up claiming to be one of the lost sisters, but the circumstances of her sudden reappearance leave more questions than answers.  Joe Infante, a detective in Baltimore, and Kay, a social worker who is assigned to evaluate and protect the rights of "Heather Bethany" can sense that the woman is lying, but about what, and why?  Each tries to get to the bottom of the mystery in their own way, but it is not until the mother of the girls arrives from the life she managed to make for herself in Mexico that everyone finally gets the full story.

Alternating between the past and present day, Lipman weaves together a narrative that is engaging and infuriating-well, really it is engaging partly because it is so infuriating.  Getting to the end of a chapter was like a cliffhanger at the end of your favorite show.  Bits and pieces of the story slowly start to coalesce into an almost clear picture, and then you learn something that makes you reevaluate what you thought you knew.  The general gist of the girls' story-kidnapped and held for years against their will-is something that has become almost cliche in contemporary mysteries.  But Lipman's treatment of it made it feel familiar yet new at the same time.

What I found so interesting as I was reading was that I didn't really like any of the characters.  Not the cop, not the "found" sister, not the father or mother.  I can't remember the last time that I was able to get this into a book where I didn't really feel sympathetic towards any of the characters.  But somehow it worked.  Even though I found myself annoyed with everyone at one time or another I still wanted to know what happen.  Maybe Lipman's biggest risk was making "Heather" so unlikeable.  We want our lost girls to be sweet and damaged and innocent.  Well, "Heather" was damaged all right.  She was manipulative, emotionally stunted, selfish, and a liar.  But after learning about the circumstances that led her back to the place she disappeared from, that all made sense to me.  How else would you feel if you were ripped away from your home and family, forced into sexual bondage and a new identity, and then escaped into a world that you thought had forgotten you, and would tear you apart if they remembered?  Lipman explores the ties of family, and those who become our family, even in the most horrifying of times.

Monsters of Templeton

I admit it, I read this book because Stephen King wrote a blurb for the cover.  I don't usually read the cover blurbs, but when I see and author I love as much as SK has read the book I am considering, I pay attention.  That blurb was pretty much all I knew about The Monsters of Templeton before I started reading.  As a result, I was expecting a horror story...and why wouldn't I?  Stephen Freakin' King wrote a blurb.  What I actually got was something far more complex and indefinable.

The Monsters of Templeton by Lauren Groff tells the story of Willie Upton, the down and out descendent of the founder of Templeton, Marmaduke Temple.  She has fled back to her childhood home after a disastrous affair with her dissertation adviser.  Pregnant, depressed, sure she is losing her career and her life, she stumbles into town in the middle of the night.  The next morning, much to everyone's surprise, the body of a huge animal floats to the surface of Glimmerglass Lake-the fabled monster Glimmey, supposed-myth turned real.  Into the public chaos that ensues, Willie gets a little surprise of her own.  After years of believing that her father was one of three men her mother lived in a commune with in the year before her birth, she is told by her mother that her father is right there in Templeton, and has been all along.  When her mother refuses to tell her who the lucky man is, she goes on a quest to discover his identity-a quest that takes her back through her family's (and the town's) long and sordid history.

Despite the monster in the lake, and the ghost that lives in Willie's house, there is nothing scary about this book.  The true monsters of Templeton were the people who lived, loved, fought, and died there throughout the years.  In many ways, this book tells the story of a woman who is finally growing up.  Willie, who lived a fairly privileged and idyllic childhood in many ways, just was not able to get herself together out in the "real" world.  Despite the prestigious college she went to, despite her competence in her chosen field (archaeology, the symbolism of which is only now hitting me), Willie can't seem to take that last step into being responsible for herself.  Her pregnancy, her return to her hometown, her realizations about her mother, and most of all her research into her family, finally bring her to a place where she can find herself in the mess of high expectations, failed relationships, and career suicide that she left in her wake.

The story alternates between present-day Willie and characters from the past, and it is this narrative structure that shows how talented Groff really is.  She wrote sections of the novel as the journal of a 19th century woman, as letters between two 18th century women, as the son of the founder of Templeton, as a nameless Indian girl, and as the monster itself.  Each voice felt authentic, and each one revealed a little bit more about the sprawling family of which Willie was a product.  The story is intricate and multi-layered, and I think that the revelations about the various Temples, Upton, Averells, and others were well-paced.  While there is some magical realism, this novel is not really that.  While there are some historical fiction elements, it's not really that, either.  In the end, I think that this book defies any clear-cut description, which to me makes it even more intriguing and enjoyable to read.

Fallen, by Karin Slaughter Review and Give Away

Welcome to Book Addict Review's first ever blog tour!  I'm excited to be a part of promoting Karin Slaughter's new book, Fallen.

I am becoming a reluctant audiobook user.  I can't bring myself to call myself an audiobook "reader", because a part of me still feels like it's cheating.  But I have found over the years that on long drives, music is no longer enough to keep my brain occupied.  It started with my favorite red-headed comedian, Kathy Griffin.  I listened to her memoir on a long drive to Michigan, and found that it made the drive much more enjoyable.  I was convinced that it was only because she's freakin' hysterical, but when the time came for my next long drive through the boring, flat landscape of the midwest, I found the longest audiobook iTunes had to offer, World Without End by Ken Follett.  So when I was approached by the publishers of Karin Slaughter's new audiobook, Fallen, I decided that I would give it a shot.  I am a fan of Slaughter's Will Trent/Faith Mitchell series, and the fact that they were sending me some give-away copies was icing on the cake.

Fallen picks up the story of GBI Agent Faith Mitchell after the birth of her daughter, Emma.  She is on her way to her mother's house to pick Emma up after a Saturday morning in-service at the Georgia Bureau of Investigation.  When she arrives at her mother's house, she finds Emma locked in the shed, her mother's house in bloody disarray, and two armed men struggling in the bedroom.  Faith tries to question the men about where her mother is, but is forced to kill both men before they tell her anything.  Will Trent and her mother's best friend, Amanda Wagner, Assistant Director of the GBI, swoop in and take control of the scene.  With Faith a person of interest, and Will and Amanda not technically on the case, they have to work under the radar, and outside of standard operating procedure to find and save Faith's mother, Evelyn.  They once again call on the help of Sarah Linton, a local doctor who was drawn into a previous case and who has developed a rather strained friendship with Will.

I've decided over the course of the last few years that the reason that I like so many mystery/thriller series is because they are character driven first, and mystery-centered second.  I feel like a close personal friend of Alex Delaware, Myron Bollitar, Kay Scarpetta (more on her here), Temperance Brennan, and Pete Decker and Rina Lazarus.  But none of these characters are as interesting and well-developed as Will Trent.  An incredibly smart man with significant dyslexia, an orphan who was "raised" by the Georgia Children's Home, Will is complicated and intense and damaged and loyal and strong, and so emotionally stunted  that he has no idea how to get out of his very dysfunctional marriage and into a healthy relationship with Sarah.  The cast of characters that surround him are also memorable and complex-Faith, former cop and former teen mom; Amanda Wagner, ball-busting middle aged woman who came up through the ranks the hard way, Evelyn Mitchell, Faith's mom and former cop who may or may not have been on the take; and Angie Trent, Will's completely sociopathic wife.  In this particular book, the characters and their lives were inextricably linked to the mystery to be solved.

The story itself is compelling and well-paced.  There is enough action to be engaging, but enough character development and exposition so that things don't feel disconnected.  There were times when I would arrive at my destination and have to sit in the car waiting for a good place to stop, but really, there were no good places to stop.  Slaughter has given us another great mystery/thriller, one that will grip you and hold tight until the very end.

Thanks to AudioGo for providing me with 5 (yes, FIVE) audiobooks to give away to me readers.  If you are interested in a copy, please comment below with your email or blog address.  I will use the ol' "pull names out of a hat" trick to decide who the lucky recipients are.  No, you don't have to become a follower, or find me on Twitter, or send me a pint of blood or your first born child.  Just say hi!

The Violets of March, Sarah Jio

One of the recurring themes in literature is the way that the past can come back to haunt us.  Things that happened long ago can reverberate through our lives and our families until they touch us, without us even knowing.  Secrets long held can be devastating when revealed-or they can lead to redemption, closure, and the ability to move forward in life.  All of these ideas are explored in The Violets of March, a novel by Sarah Jio coming out in April.

Emily Watson thought she had it all.  A best selling book, a handsome husband, a glamorous life in New York.  Then the writer's block set in, her husband had an affair, and her fabulous social life dwindled as her fame fell.  Ten years later, on the day her divorce becomes final, she accepts an invitation from her Aunt Bee to visit her on Bainbridge Island, where Emily spent many happy summers as a child.  There, Emily reconnects with an old boyfriend, Greg, and meets Jack, who her aunt warns her away from.  She also find a red velvet diary, and gets drawn into a tragic mystery that happened fifty years earlier.  She soon comes to believe that the diary is connected to her in some way, and that she was fated to find it and bring her family's secrets out into the light at last.

I love books about islands.  I have always wanted to live on an island-to be that close to the sea, to be a part of a close knit community just seems idyllic to me.  I was immediately drawn by Jio's description of the island, and the way that the sea matched what was happening in the story at the time.  I was also immediately drawn in by the mystery.  Whose diary had Emily found?  Why was her aunt so tight-lipped about it?  And why was she supposed to stay away from the gorgeous and interesting Jack?  Emily finds that she cannot complete her own healing process, or move forward in her own life, until she uncovers the mystery around the women in her family.  She also finds that she cannot go back to her old life in New York with thoughts of Jack in her head.  The Violets of March is an imminently readable, thoroughly enjoyable book about love, family, and moving foward.

(Thank you to Penguin Group USA for the  free review copy)

The Road, Cormac McCarthy

The Road is one of those books that I knew I should get around to, but just never seemed to make its way into my reading rotation.  I knew that it was post-apocalyptic, which I enjoy.  I knew that McCarthy is a well-respected author, for good reason.   I was waiting to watch the movie until I read the book, and even that wasn't enough of a push.  Well, I finally got around to it, and now I know why I resisted.  I knew that the story was depressing as hell and it would suck me into its dark, ash-filled, cannibalistic world like a black hole sucks in light.

The story centers around a man and his son, wandering a world that is utterly dead.  While  this is obviously because of some man-made disaster, we never really learn what.  The man and his son have been wandering and scavenging for years, sometimes going days without finding anything to eat.  There are no animals, nothing grows-the earth is filled with ash and smoke and burned out cities.  They often have to hide from gangs of cannibals, looking for other survivors to hold captive and use as food.  Despite the apparent hopelessness of the situation, the man and his son keep traveling along the road, not really believing that things might be better on the coast, but unable to bow to the seeming inevitability of death. 

Here's the thing-despite the fact that at least once I was contemplating suicide on the characters' behalf, I loved this book.  The writing is genius.  I've never read any of McCarthy's books before, but if all of them have the same ability to convey with just a few words the enormity of life and love and death then I'll read them all.  I'm always in awe of authors who can choose exactly the right words to create a vivid picture for the reader-no more and no less.  Being rather verbose myself, I admire this ability.  I also admire the imagination that can come up with this kind of skewed reality in the first place.  Though it makes me wonder what kind of dark place McCarthy's mind is.

My one complaint-the ending.  Not that it is left completely open-ended.  I get that as a metaphor for life in general, and that as long as there is life the story is never over, everything is uncertain except for the passage of time, etc..In fact, my complaint is that the story should have ended about 10 pages sooner than it did, with the boy completely alone.  Now THAT would have been a head-scratcher, real food for thought, a book group discussion starter. Despite my feeling that he caved a little bit at the end, overall I am deeply affected by this book, and find myself thinking about it off and on in the days since I finished it.  What more can a book have to recommend it than that?

I Should Not Have Been Fearful of Her Fearful Symettry

Her Fearful Symmetry is the second novel by author Audrey Niffenegger, author of the much admired The Time Traveler's Wife.  As someone who read and loved, loved, triple loved TTTW, I was a little nervous picking up Her Fearful Symmetry.  What if her second novel couldn't live up to the mind-bending, mind-blowing amazingness of the first?  Well, I should have had more faith in Ms. Niffenegger (sorry, Audrey-maybe we could meet at Uncle Julio's for margaritas and I can make it up to you!).  Her Fearful Symmetry, while a completely different sort of novel, is in fact pretty amazing itself.

Her Fearful Symmetry tells the story of two different sets of twins, and the people who love them.  The first set, Elspeth and Edie, have not seen or spoken to each other in nearly 20 years.  When Elspeth finds that she is dying of cancer, she leaves all of her possessions, including her flat in London, to Valentine and Julia, the twin daughters of her estranged sister.  The only condition is that they have to live in the flat for one year to inherit anything.  Little does Elspeth know when he makes that condition that she will be there with them.  After her death she finds herself an insubstantial ghost in her flat, unable to leave.  Valentine and Julia have their own issues.  Julia is fiercely insistent that the girls stay together always, even though Valentine feels smothered by her sister's constant presence and yearns to break free.  It is this desire that leads to a decision that changes everything, for everyone, living or dead.

It is fitting that a central feature of the novel is Highgate Cemetery in London, a rather famous Victorian era cemetery.  There is much about this novel that reminds me of Victorian-era stories.  Their fiction tended to be almost as cluttered as their mantelpieces and pianos.  Lots of characters, lots of plot lines, lots of intrigue.  The relationship between the twins borders on creepy, and you can feel Valentine's restlessness and claustrophobia quite clearly.  Her relationship with her dead aunt's lover is also a little creepy, though he is frankly the most likeable character in the book.  The big family secret that underlies a great deal of the book drives the story, making it a page turner.  When the big reveal finally comes, I thought I had it all figured out-and I was wrong.  I love that, when  a book can surprise me.  And then surprise me again with what happens in the aftermath of the truth.  Valentine's fate is the very definition of cruel irony.  All in all, this novel lives up to my very high expectations for Ms. Niffenegger's writing, if not being quite as engaging a story for me as her first, amazing novel. 

Confessions of the Other Mother

What makes a person a mother?  How do women who do not identify with traditional femininity fit into the role of mother?  What is it like watching your partner have a physical closeness with your child that you will neve have?  These are all questions posed (and sometimes answered) by the collection of essays Confessions of the Other Mother: Non-Biological Lesbian Moms Tell All.

I was drawn to this book (despite my previously stated aversion to most non-fiction) because my partner, Amanda, could have contributed to the book.  While our 16 year old daughter came about the old-fashioned way from my first marriage, Amanda and I have been raising her together since she was about eight.  I wanted to get some insight into the kinds of experiences that other women had had with blended families.

Had I been paying more attention to the actual table of contents during my book buying frenzy at the conference where I bought this book, I would have noticed that there is only one essay in the book about step-mothering. But I'm glad that I didn't pay more attention, because I would have missed out on some fascinating stories.  From poignant to frustrating, political to deeply personal, the authors of these essays have shared an experience that not only helps me understand lesbian mothering, but actually gave me insight into straight fathering.  It never occurred to me that women who identify strongly as butch would have trouble not just being called mother, but with identifying with our society's definition of maternal.  Or that there would be jealousy from the non-birth spouse over the closeness of breastfeeding (this was the one that got me thinking about straight fathers).  Or that people were really so insensitive as to ask which mother is the "real" mother.

The one that spoke the most strongly to me was written by one of the women who brought about the lawsuit that led to the Massachusetts gay marriage decision, Hilary Goodrich.  Her partner had to have a C-section while delivering their daughter.  The baby was born in some distress, so she was rushed to the NICU, and Goodrich went with her.  After sitting next to her daughter's bed until the crisis passed, she went back to check on her partner-and was told that she could not "visit" because she was not "family".  She then tried to go back to the NICU, where she was stopped at the door because she was not the "mother".  Imagine not being able to go to the person you love or your child when they are sick or in pain, and the frustration and anger you'd feel.   

There has been a lot of debate in our country over the years about what makes a family.  I think that most of us have gotten our heads around the idea of single parents, blended families, and families with grandparents as the main child-rearers.  Based on the stories in Confessions, we still have some work to do on honoring and valuing the love and care that exists in families led by same-sex parents.

The Weight of Silence

In her examination of love, friendship, and family, Heather Gudenkauf provides the reading with a decent mystery, some suspense, and a lot of strong characters.  The Weight of Silence is a mystery wrapped in a family story, with a side of unrequited love thrown in.

While there are many characters, each given their own chapters, the story starts with Calli, a seven year old elective mute.  Her alcoholic father drags her into the woods early one morning, saying he is taking her to her "real" father's house.  Her mother, Antonia, asleep in the house, has no idea that she is gone.  Enter Martin, father of Calli's  best friend Petra, who is also missing.  They soon contact Deputy Sheriff Louis, an old flame of Antonia's and the man that her husband Griff believes is Calli's "real" father.  As the frantic search for the girls begins, the story of these adults and how their lives intersect unfolds.

As mysteries go this one is OK-I figured out who took Petra pretty early on.  There were just too many references to a seemingly tangential character for it to be coincidence.  But what kept me hooked was the backstory of the adults.  Gudenkauf revealed just enough in each of her chapters, each told from a different point of view, to keep you wanting to know more.  While Calli's elective mutism doesn't seem entirely believable, it does provide the story with some suspense, as you wait to see if and when she will speak.  All in all this was an enjoyable way to spend a couple of days.