SMALL DAYS AND NIGHTS

Grace Marisola returns to India from the U.S. upon her mother’s death, leaving behind a crumbling marriage, only to discover that her mother has left her a beach house in Madras—and, even more surprisingly, that she has a sister she never knew about, Lucia, who has Down syndrome.

Grace moves Lucia from the institution their mother secretly funded to care for girls with special needs to the secluded beach house she's inherited. Here, on the outskirts of rural life, she tries to cultivate a sibling bond. The novel unfolds from Grace’s first-person perspective and in the present tense, which can sometimes be cumbersome but feels poignant here for the way it creates immediacy in an otherwise meandering tale. Grace’s lonely childhood is newly refracted by Lucia’s existence; she recalls her parents’ story, examining how a couple might decide to allow an institution to raise one of their children and the consequences of that decision on their marriage and the child they kept. Grace’s own marriage is failing because she doesn’t want children and her husband does. Feelings of alienation stemming from her childhood and worry about the fate of the planet, among other things, have led her to choose a life at the edge of the world. She makes her own nuclear family with Lucia and a pack of energetic dogs, a precarious existence at best. Doshi (Girls Are Coming Out of the Woods, 2017, etc.) is excellent at conjuring atmosphere, particularly a sense of menace regarding the dangers that confront women in both rural and cosmopolitan India. She needs few words to breathe life into her characters and setting, the stars of the story. Grace can be judgmental and mean, but Doshi has also endowed her with intelligence and sensitivity. All of these qualities make Grace a worthy prism for the profound questions of what it means to belong to a family and a community.

This exploration of loneliness is a feat of lyricism.