This book follows Soojin, a teenager mourning the recent death of her older sister Mirae. She is deeply affected by this lose, as her and Mirae were very close, a present fixture in each other’s lives. Mirae’s sudden death leaves a deep cavity in Soojin’s heart, that she constantly pushes away the people in her life. Her sadness is so all-consuming that she can’t see past her own grief to acknowledge her father’s despair over losing his daughter.
Seven years earlier, Soojin and Mirae lost their mother to a car accident, which ravished the whole family, and forced Mirae into the role of caregiver in the family, forced to hide her own grief from her family to keep the other two members afloat. She was only 11, but the reputation she had crafted for herself, that had been reinforced by other’s views of her kept her from being honest about her feelings. She was supposed to be “perfect,” she wasn’t supposed to show vulnerability when her father and sister were so broken.
Additionally, in their family runs the power of necromancy, each woman with the power to resurrect the dead with their two hands. Mirae and Soojin’s mother instructs them to only raise small animals back from the dead, and never ever attempt to resurrect a human. A taboo, but one growing all the more tantalizing as Soojin falls deeper into sorrow over her sister’s death.
This story is a deeply raw and harrowing exploration of grief, selfishness, and destruction. I loved this book so much, it was so vividly disturbing and eerie with the body-horror elements, yet a tender and heart-breaking exploration of sisterly-love and the things one will do when confronted with grief. I enjoyed the many parallels Yun drew between the two sisters, and how complex their relationship was throughout the story, it felt so beautifully human, displaying the ugliness, the resentment, the longing, the desperation, and the love.
I liked how the author emphasized the theme of grief and longing for a deceased loved one, and how this is a perpetual feeling that cannot be dispersed, not merely a goal to tick off your list. Yun writes how grief is a journey with no definitive ending, and that perhaps it will always be a part of you.
I thoroughly enjoyed this book, and was actually satisfied by the ending, which is something I feel a lot of the time falls flat once I finish a story, but this one felt like a conclusive resolution and I didn’t have a surge of unanswered questions flitting through my brain.
However, I will say that the romance in this story felt kind of lack-luster and somehow unnecessary to the theme and overall plot of the story. Notably, between Soojin and her friend Mark, I felt that their relationship throughout the story felt purely platonic, and if there was some romantic feelings going on there, that it was one-sided on Mark’s part. Soojin never thinks of him romantically until he asks her to a dance and suddenly she’s into him. I felt so sudden and jarring that it annoyed me.
I think this story would best be enjoyed by anyone whose a fan of horror, raw depictions of grief and its subsequent effects, sisterly bounds, and an exploration of selfishness and sacrifice and its relationship with loving others and yourself.