There is likely no way to completely understand ourselves much less one another. We are multitude in thought, feeling and deed. Humanity roils and often reason seems a far too distant shore. Yet, we seek. We yearn. We endure. Charlotte Wood delivers us into the consciousness of a woman awash in an eddy of grief. While the events that precipitate grief are often (but not always) traumatic we learn that its manifestation can be a dark poetry written across time upon the fragile pages of the soul. Indeed, Wood has written a novel of extraordinarily quiet power. Among the many meaningful moments, there is a single line of revelation that some will find worth the price of admission. Others may need or want more. Yes, the mysteries of grief are multitude and the ache of existence remains.