[NON]DISCLOSURE

A woman grapples with the long aftermath of having been sexually abused by her childhood priest.

Growing up a Catholic schoolgirl in 1970s Ontario, the nameless protagonist of Bondy’s debut novel does just about everything that's expected of her, from joining the choir to helping out the priest at the rectory with various tasks. The narrator knows she’s no standout, and she likes it that way: “I’d always been quiet…I wore quiet like a woolen shawl, protective and comforting.” But it is perhaps this very lack of remarkableness that makes her a target for the pedophile priest—”Father Feeler”—at her parish. Years later, after she's found her calling by opening up her home as a hospice for gay men dying of AIDS—who were mistreated, or failed to be treated, at traditional hospitals and banned from seeing their partners or friends—other victims of the priest begin to come forward. As the narrator weighs whether or not to join them in telling her story, she learns the insidious power that secrets have to fracture families and communities—as well as how healing might be possible. In the novel’s afterword, Bondy reveals the novel’s inspiration as a real-life case out of Chatham, Ontario, and her desire to explore the lesser-known stories of female victims of church abuse. The necessity for home hospice networks for AIDS patients in the 1980s was also, sadly, very real. Bondy’s decision to juxtapose the two scenarios gives the novel much of its power. But the nameless protagonist—who sometimes shifts into the plural first person—seems designed to be a kind of everywoman for victims and so never develops a vivid personhood of her own, undoing some of Bondy’s intentions to move and outrage the reader through the power of fiction.

Underdeveloped characters dampen this well-intentioned, thoughtful tale.