NOW PLAYING: “Strange Mercy” by St. Vincent

I tried to read The Safekeep by Yael van der Wouden before the Book Review podcast aired their episode on it. (I don’t even have to mention the layered title, do I? Dear Reader, keep it in mind as you read. It’s perfect.)

Then I tried to read it before that episode disappeared behind a paywall.

Then I tried to read it before the Libby app yanked it away from me with the smug efficiency of a digital librarian who’s just following protocol.

None of that worked.

But I had made it just far enough into the novel that it had already cast its spell. Quietly, like a curtain slipping off a rod. I needed to finish it. So I marched myself to our local library and snapped up a hard copy.

Within two days, Word Raccoon and I drank it all. Gladly.

During those two days, I wrote little. But sometimes, the well needs to be refilled. And The Safekeep did just that.

Word Raccoon was there, of course. She’s been reading over my shoulder lately, wearing her pom-pom earrings, chewing the inside of her cheek like she’s trying not to shout spoilers. She offered no commentary this time, just raised one furry brow now and then as if to say “oh, we’re in it now.”

And we were.

Yael van der Wouden’s debut is set in the Dutch countryside, 1961. A woman named Isabel lives alone in her late mother’s house, seemingly removed from most things: community, intimacy, complication. Enter Eva, her brother’s new girlfriend. A guest, a disruptor, a question mark in red lipstick.

(Remind anyone of a particular raccoon??)

The novel is exquisitely detailed in a way that makes a writer jealous, freshly structured, and contains some of the most tender, conflicted moments of first love I’ve ever read.

The way it sweeps you up and along is truly amazing, and its length is perfect for summer reading, especially when (hand raised) you’ve been more poetry-writing focused than reading focused.

Van der Wouden writes tension like a seamstress: small stitches, perfectly placed. You feel it long before you realize what you’re feeling. You see her word dress and you think, Oh, that’s what you were sewing all along. It’s gorgeous.

The house itself feels like a closed mouth. There’s so much about control here emotional, historical, domestic. It’s about what we hide, what we inherit, what we hunger for even when it terrifies us. (Ah, control. Admirable, sometimes understandable, yet extremely frustrating in a person when it amounts to a tinman refusing to allow himself to be oiled. When he pretends not to have a heart, but the reader can hear it beating from across the room. Be patient and read on.)

There are echoes of WWII and generational guilt braided through, but never in a heavy-handed way. Just fragments. Shards. The kind of things you find when dusting what used to belong to someone else. (You’ll get that after you read it, too.)

Meanwhile, in the real world, I was eating watermelon sprinkled with Tajin this afternoon and wondering aloud (to no one in particular) whether the heat had scared off all the birbs and squirrels. We haven’t seen many the past few days. Maybe they’re hiding. Maybe they know something we don’t. Plenty of cats in the neighborhood, so maybe that explains it. Yikes!

On Friday, Barry had a minor, one-car accident. He’s fine. His vehicle? TBD. I delivered him safely to his gig uptown Friday evening where an appreciative crowd enjoyed The Strays while he subbed in on keys and acoustic guitar.

As for me, I’ll be on foot until we hear back from the body shop, which, if it weren’t for the heat and a full laptop bag, would be great. I’ve missed my walks. I’ve missed noticing things.

And The Safekeep? Well, that book reminded me to notice things, too.

As if I miss much. It’s a built-in Word Raccoon feature. Which is why it’s such a delight when an author can surprise and delight the reader. van der Wouden does just that.

Read The Safekeep before your app times out. Before the episode locks up. Before the heat melts your concentration. No matter how you access it, it’s a book well worth chasing down.