It’s a novel of total fidelity between word and world, the kind of novel that invents its own language, that teaches us how to read it, and that makes our own words feel inadequate. In writing a novelistic yarn spanning more than one hundred years in wild Newfoundland, the Canadian writer Michael Crummey acts as literary historicist: interrogating the way we internalize time, “remember” the past, and perceive changes in the world and in ourselves. A historical novel in the best sense of the term, it’s the antithesis of a stodgy set piece.
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