In this fairly short novel, which flows with the speed of summer passing, we follow the life of a young boy, Joris, who has lived with his Aunt and Uncle since his father's death and mother's defection to Spain many years before. Aunt and Uncle are essentially his parents and love him as such though they know that Joris' mother is always out there, sending postcards from her life.

This story is about memory and reality, how we construct our lives from the bits and pieces that are handed to us. For Joris, those bits and pieces are small memories from his brief childhood with a mother and father, moments of play, family moments. These are buttressed by a drawer full of treasured photos---photos of the lost father he worships as a young boy does and the mother who has left him behind. These photos are his tie to a life that no longer exists. His father is in the graveyard. Joris knows he is loved in his current life but he is not secure.

I still have photos from those days, showing me fair-haired and sandal-shod. My father holds me by the hand as we stroll along meadows dappled by the shade of poplars, during summers that now seem greener and slower than they were. (loc 13)

Joris pores over photos for they are his link to the past and the life that wasn't.

I told myself there must be a world out there stocked with all the images that had never been captured, except by the sunshine perhaps, which always seemed to absorb a smattering of whatever it illuminated, reuniting it God knows where with all those two-dimensional figures patiently prised from frames, albums or the depths of the old suitcase in which I kept my most treasured possessions. (loc 139)

This is a bittersweet tale of a young boy coming of age. It is set in what would be called a simpler time but the emotions involved are universal and timeless. I do recommend it.

A copy of this book was provided by the publisher through NetGalley for the purpose of an honest review.