THE SKUNKS

Returning to her hometown after college, Isabel must confront past characters and forge new paths and unexpected attachments to…skunks?

It’s the first summer after graduation; Isabel is housesitting for Jan and Steve, who are hiking part of the Appalachian Trail. She takes a part-time job as a receptionist at a yoga studio; she babysits a spunky 4-year-old named Cecelia; she goes on walks and coffee dates with her childhood friend, Ellie; she watches the three skunks that appear occasionally in Jan and Steve’s backyard. And she tries not to think about boys—namely, she tries not to think about Jan and Steve’s son, Eli, with whom she has a complicated past, and with whom a friendship begins to kindle. The arc of Isabel’s summer is cut by vignettes of the personified skunks, imagined by Isabel as possessors of a near-human interiority, exploring the natural world and the meaning of existence—pondering callings and purposes, self-realization, joy, death. These brief scenes gracefully highlight Isabel’s own existential contemplations: Does she have a calling or purpose? What does it mean for her to discover her own desires and aspirations? Are their discoveries really so different, in the end? Isabel’s postgraduate crises feel acute and authentic: “I was working in a yoga studio, and the people in Philadelphia were working in coffee shops. What made it more acceptable to flounder in a new place than in a place steeped with memories?” At its best, 23-year-old Warnick’s debut novel is strikingly, openly earnest, looking inward with thoughtful reflection and outward with shrewd but impartial consideration. Through Isabel, we see the thrilling scope of youthful possibility: cities to explore, boys (and girls) to kiss, friends with which to reconnect, skunks to observe.

A thoughtful, tenderhearted bildungsroman.