MISSING PERSONS

An excavation of a familial cover-up illuminates broader mysteries of 20th-century Ireland.

In her 20s, Wills, a professor of English at Cambridge and the author of Lovers and Strangers and That Neutral Island, learned she had a cousin she didn’t know existed. The book begins with a cast of characters, all of whom are relatives of the author, divided into four temporal categories: the Victorians, which include Wills’ grandmother; the post-revolutionary generation; the postwar generation, which includes the author; and the next generation. “I keep returning to a story of a generation gone wrong in my own family,” she writes, “a mother not married, and a child stifled.” In the 1950s, the author’s uncle fathered a daughter (the aforementioned cousin) with his lover and, with the mother’s knowledge, abandoned both to a “mother-and-baby home.” Between 1922 and 1998, these institutions homed at least 56,000 unwed mothers and even more infants. In 2014, nearly 800 of their bodies were found in sewer chambers, which sparked a massive investigation into the inhumane conditions. “They did not survive, yet they have not gone away,” writes Wills about the mistreated mothers and children. The author describes her family’s story within this larger context: “To us, now, it seems pretty much unthinkable, yet the distance between us and the people who believed in the system (or believed enough) is very small.” Wills explores the specific ways in which inherited past lives on, offering a searing yet nuanced investigation into the lives of complicit relatives, such as her mother, as well as tender portraits of those affected. The author’s prose is stellar; her cadence complements this compelling tale, which grew increasingly complex over years of meticulous research. Ultimately, she emphasizes that “everything I’ve been describing was not out of the ordinary.”

Fascinatingly, viscerally haunting.