This is a book of gaps and lacunae, of mysteries and words left unspoken, of unnamed catastrophes and painful redemptions. It is a book that explores the damage we do to each other—both to those who mean us harm and those we love. It is a book that tries to understand the unrelenting insistence of men that they take their place in the world.

Three sisters and their mother live away from the mainland. Two men and a young boy arrive. What follows is a story of attraction and repulsion. It is traumatic, but strangely compelling.

The atmosphere created by this meeting—a strange mix of distrust, uncertainty and curiosity—is unlike anything I’ve read. It is close to some of Angela Carter’s work, but has a quality all its own.

It’s trite to say that "I couldn’t put this book down.” In this case, though, it’s true. But not for the reasons that you’d usually say it. It was not to see a mystery solved that I kept reading, but to see a mystery deepen.