Whilst it was beautifully written and obviously is based on very difficult subject matter, I did also find it quite distressing to read about dead kittens in the book on top of the stillbirth, even if it was added in as a metaphor. However, I feel like not enough of these stories are told or written. Whilst I (thankfully) haven’t lost a baby this way myself, I have loved ones who have, and we’ve had early term miscarriages. So I do understand the importance of books like these. Whilst I feel it was an important book for me to read, it was a difficult one, nonetheless - not because of the writing, which was fantastic, but because of how heartbreaking situations like these are. I hope having stories like these out in the open will start to provide some more healing for those who have been through this trauma.

As an English-Canadian (born in England but have Canadian citizenship) it was lovely to hear a Canadian-European story. I’ve always wanted to go to Greece, and despite the heartache in the rest of the book, the descriptions of Greece were exquisite.

[check TW]
Every year, nearly 2 million babies are stillborn around the world; in Canada, one in every 125 pregnancies ends in a stillbirth.

—

In Montreal in 1991, it follows Lydia, a woman who’s just delivered a stillborn baby. That loss cracks open everything; her sense of self, her marriage, her place in her husband’s more affluent, traditional Greek family. Lydia, the daughter of working-class immigrants, is already used to being the one who holds things together. But this grief? It’s different. It’s heavy. And she’s completely alone in it. Her husband John, a successful doctor, doesn’t know how to be present for her, or maybe he just doesn’t want to be. Their relationship, already unsteady, begins to quietly fall apart.

This short novel was so powerful because of how real it all feels. The emotional distance, the awkward silences, the moments where love should be enough, but isn’t. The writing was quiet and intimate. There are no grand gestures, it's just real people trying (and often failing) to navigate impossible pain. Lydia’s quiet resilience is both heartbreaking and inspiring. She’s not perfect, and neither is John. But that’s what makes it work. That’s what makes it hurt.

This book is about grief but also about womanhood, marriage, culture, and the deep loneliness that can live inside even the closest relationships. It’s tender, raw, and deeply human.

Read it if you need a good cry.
4 ⭐️ Thank you Literary Press Group of Canada for the arc!