ELITA

Set in 1951 around Puget Sound, this debut novel centers on a woman and a girl who, independently of each other and in vastly different circumstances, are abandoned.

While enjoying their lunch break outdoors on Elita Island, home to a federal penitentiary, two prison guards encounter a feral child who appears to be around 12, but is actually 17. Because the girl, who’s being called Atalanta Doe, doesn’t speak, the social worker assigned to the case is elated when she hears about Professor Bernadette Baston: “A woman child development specialist! How interesting, I thought,” she tells Bernadette when they meet. Bernadette, a curiosity as a woman in the psychology department at Seattle’s state university, specializes in language acquisition, but explains that she’s a scholar and can’t be expected to teach Atalanta to talk. Nevertheless, over the course of her visits with the girl, Bernadette becomes determined to learn how Atalanta got to the island, which will mean asking the area’s residents unwelcome questions. As it happens, Bernadette, too, knows something about surviving on one’s own: Her husband left four years earlier, when their daughter was an infant. Lunstrum builds her fathomlessly rich plot with sentences that suggest she has, as Bernadette describes a novelist’s job, “taken a polishing cloth to the surface of every word.” (Readers should be patient with early chapters that minutely recount what Bernadette acknowledges is “the teeming wildness” of her thoughts.) The novel succeeds as both a mystery and a pitiless look at the burdens that have historically been particular to female parents and professionals. As Bernadette observes a Tacoma detective’s lack of affect, she accepts that his “flat, stone-faced approach is a privilege she’ll never have.”

Immensely satisfying as both a mystery and an unblinkered look at working motherhood.