3.5 stars rounded up to 4
In July 1962, a Mi’kmaq family travels from Nova Scotia to Maine for the blueberry harvest. Before the summer ends, their four-year-old daughter vanishes.
That single, devastating moment shapes the next fifty years. One family mourns in silence, clinging to faith and memory. In another household, a girl named Norma grows up troubled by vivid dreams that feel less like imagination and more like buried truth.
Amanda Peters—of Mi’kmaq and settler ancestry and winner of the 2021 Indigenous Voices Award for Unpublished Prose—writes with restraint and empathy. She explores loss, grief, and hope, but also the invisible tether that binds families together even when they are torn apart.
The alternating perspectives of Joe, the brother who never stops searching, and Norma, who senses something amiss in her own history, create a slow unraveling of secrets that feels intimate rather than sensational.
The pacing is gentle, sometimes almost too gentle. A bit more narrative tension would have strengthened the middle. Still, the emotional core is strong, and Peters handles themes of identity and belonging with care and quiet confidence.
This is a poignant debut from a writer to watch—thoughtful, understated, and moving. A solid 3.5 stars, rounded up to four. ( The average rating in my book club was 3.31)