"If you live your whole life hoping and dreaming the wrong things, what does that mean about your whole life?"
Beth Moon believed in one thing her entire adulthood—something that surpassed the importance of her husband, children, and self. Beth Moon was a writer, one who incorporated her dream into every word she penned, and one who penned words into every dream she dreamed. Upon recognizing the inevitable void in her entire crux of belief, she fell into a terrifying depression; and soon after, she took her own life.
But this is not the story of Beth Moon. Not really, anyways. This is the story of Beth Moon's untimely, ill-fated death: the uncovering of and reconciliation with her past, her ailments, her baggage. This is the story of her dreams and her writing: her unsent letters and unfinished novel. Ultimately, however, this is the story of her daughters, Jazz and Olivia Moon, and more importantly: of their inheritance.
Olivia's reality has always been bizarre, so when she decides to toss her mother's ashes into a suitcase and leave her isolated West Virginian hometown to go off to fulfill her mother's yearnings, Jazz isn't all that surprised.
[Olivia has] never been the poster child for sense.
Olivia's unfaltering quest propels the clashing sisters into what begins as a risky adventure—involving traveling, train-hoppers, and the unforgiving wilderness—and ends in devastating but simultaneously uplifting family revelations that makes
The Moon Sisters one of the most evocative and perceptive adult coming-of-age novels I've ever read.
Narrated in alternating first-person voices of the two sisters, the novel elegantly embodies the suffocation and restlessness that arises from living in a small town, as well as the many faces and stages of grief. Readers follow both Jazz and Olivia's physical and emotional journeys as they lose their way, find their way, fall apart, and fall in love; with this progression, readers discover how each sister deals with her own denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally, triumphantly: acceptance.
One of the most significant questions Therese Walsh raises through both of the Moon daughters is on the worthwhileness of hoping and believing. The elusiveness of dreams—a once-comforting notion—increasingly causes both sisters distress as they reflect upon their respective childhoods and their mother's dismal reason for existence. Is it smart to hope and dream? Is it safe? Does it ever end in anything other than disappointment?
I was impressed by how realistic Jazz, the older sister, is—so flawed and easy to sympathize with. It was difficult for me to
like her because she's so uptight, so logical, but I identify with her in so many other ways. Olivia, on the other hand, is a brightly burning character—both on the pages, and off. Her way of thought is difficult to penetrate—partly due to the synesthesia, partly due to the undeveloped sense of maturity—but it doesn't make her any less distinct; she's a colorful, imaginative character who's entirely offbeat, but that much more lovable. Therese Walsh is excellent with describing the flavor of words and the appearance of sounds and the way a person can smell like the sun. As in
Amaryllis in Blueberry and
A Mango-Shaped Space, the author vividly creates a different kind of reality from within Olivia; the effect is subtly hallucinogenic and staggeringly poetic.
While Hobbs, Olivia's secretive train-hopping companion, is a minor character, his relationship with Olivia smolders, ignites... intoxicates. I won't give too much away, but their slow-building rapport made me melt and shatter and want to cry.
The Moon Sisters isn't explicitly a romance, but it contains overwhelming glimpses into the sheer capacity and capability of the human connection, that will desperately make you wish it was.
Illuminated by Walsh's mesmerizing, commanding voice,
The Moon Sisters reads dreamlike—magical and dizzying and airy—but still possesses the emotional weight of coping and continuing—the care, keeping, and purging of ghosts, if you will. Readers will easily identify with the firmly planted emotions regarding tortured souls, family bonds, and the weakness and resilience that comes with being human.
Pros
Perfectly blends adventure, family drama, and personal reflection together // Exquisite style // Both sisters' points of view are equally refreshing and intriguing // Olivia and Hobbs... ugh ♥ // Story lulls in pace, but the tension makes it impossible to put down // Emotionally, powerfully reflective of the human heart and propensity to dream // Trippy, dreamlike perspectives are so well constructed
Cons
Slow start // Didn't like how Beth Moon's letters are actually displayed. They seem much too private and were disappointing solely because it seems impossible to write them the way I imagined them
Love
There was no snapping branches or movements between us then. Only a sense of seeing that went beyond what anyone might perceive with eyes.
He's uglier than sin, you know.
I doubted I would believe that even if I weren't living life on periphery and bound for a further edge, if I could see Hobbs's dragon-camouflage skin with all its details. Liking him felt more honest than anything I'd experienced before, too, maybe because of its quick-form, raw-wound beginning and lack of clarity, its sheer instinct, and the fact neither of us had turned yet to run in the other direction.
"You don't scare me, Hobbs."
"Said the girl who stared at the sun."
The Chalk Man
