Two adult siblings move in together and struggle to come to terms with the long-ago loss of their disabled sister and their own troubled relationship.
Like most siblings, the middle-aged Mellishman sisters at the heart of Zigman’s amusing yet poignant new novel have chapters of history propping them up and weighing them down. Newly divorced Joyce, an archivist in Cambridge, is getting used to solitude again, whiling away her time on a neighborhood site called Small World, turning her neighbors’ queries and complaints into strange but potent poetry. The act, she says, is therapeutic—and also easier than addressing the nagging questions about her own life. When Lydia, her older sister, leaves LA for the East Coast, Joyce invites her to move in for a while, secretly hoping proximity will force them to forge a bond they never quite managed to build. But they still can’t seem to communicate or talk about their past. Their childhoods were laser-focused on Eleanor, their severely disabled sister, who died at 10. But although Eleanor’s life was short, her impact was lasting, especially on her sisters, who learned to hide their own fears and problems in order to focus on hers. Zigman, who excels at depicting the emotional push and pull of sibling relationships, examines the conflicts and grief that play out in a family dealing with a disabled child with compassion and honesty. Yet she never loses her sharp sense of humor, as evidenced by the hilarious ongoing war between Joyce and her new upstairs neighbors, who seem to be running a yoga studio. As she reveals secrets previously unknown to Joyce, Zigman doesn’t shy away from discussing the hardships the Mellishmans faced, but she also highlights small moments of wonder and joy that illuminate the sisters’ shared path. The world might feel small, Joyce learns, but the power of hope always looms large.
A compassionate, often funny examination of shared family grief and love.