Three Keys

Strong start, and the momentum persisted: tension, discomfort, wonder, tenderness, loss, discovery. Pritchett has a knack for understanding that end-of-life despair where we realize our life has been mostly wasted, and we can never fix it, but we might have a small chance to give meaning to the little that's left. Ammalie—her protagonist—is intensely figuring out how to do so. Her decisions are not ones I would make, nor (I hope) would you, but even so I get it. I could relate and deeply empathize and even love her. Love everyone, actually, because that's the sort of book this is: All the characters are kind and wise and wonderful; all the conversations are Real; all the vistas are breathtaking and are mindfully appreciated. (If you're getting a Lake Wobegon vibe, you're not too far off). Gently antiracist and ecoconscious without being heavyhanded. Emotionally powerful and sensitive. Satisfying conclusion.

Once again I'm impressed and moved by how huge a heart Pritchett has and how effectively she paints the kind of world I want to live in. Or, if I'm very lucky, to help shape, in the company of the kind wise wonderful loved ones in my life.

(Can't quite justify five stars because the dialog is so stilted and cringey. Plus the dei ex machina, eyeroll. Please don't let that put you off from reading this. Just have a grain of salt on hand.)