As a fellow author, it’s one thing to review what draws my fancy at my own leisure, but it’s quite another when I open a book I’ve already promised to review (with no small amount of trepidation, I might add). You see, I’ve been burnt before — saddled with a novel that I dread finishing, and flailing to find something salvageable to comment on!

I need not have worried, in this case. I came across the book’s description on a Facebook writers’ group, and was instantly drawn in. And I am so, so thankful I took the chance on this not-yet-published novel.

The Premise

Stunning from beginning to end, “Ellipsis” charts the trajectory of a young woman from the overconfident highs of her early adulthood and passionate affair with a foreigner, through the debilitating grief and profound loss of a loved one, and timid emergence and blossoming into a new sense of self and purpose. Eloquently written and aptly described, there is so much substance here — an overabundance of themes intricately woven into the lives of these characters: beauty, violence, levity, loss, friendship, peace.

The Pros

I really liked the fact that all of these characters felt incredibly real. The cast is diverse in so many ways, and each was fully sketched and crafted — fabulously flawed, but resplendently relatable. From the Armenian lover, to the reclusive but endearing art teacher, to the officer’s dutiful but lingering gaze, and even the broad range of reactions from the grieving families; there is a vivid thread of description here that many authors fail to do well. Here, it is effortless, and I can easily imagine every character — her son’s lackadaisical boyhood sweet mustiness, her supposedly functional family’s emotively stunted responses, and the scared child clinging desperately on the other end of the line.

The writing meanders along with grace, style, and those tiny nuances of women’s fiction moments that are pure gold: revelling in the motherhood moment of feeling like “I’ve won”, the prickly feeling of the awareness of a lover’s infidelity, the nasty undercurrent of nonchalance while observing others’ lives around you — those lives not lived: “sometimes you don’t ride off into the sunset entirely, and that was okay”.

There is so much story here — so many avenues to explore, that I was thrilled to relish every kernel of life slowly revealed as the tale developed. The pacing has distinct shifts but despite the various phases of its life cycle, it does not lag or rush but buds and blooms, sprouting tendrils of life just like the flower on the novel’s cover.

Normally I have a “Cons” section, but I can’t with any real sense of conviction pick this apart to call out a flaw worth mentioning. I read it through quickly and thoroughly enjoyed the ride, revelling in the journey the author took me on.

Conclusion

This is a book I can easily see translated to film, or read for a Literature class or book club. There is a lot to unpack, and so many lessons to be learnt here. There is so much heart in this tale that at times it was simply breathtaking. There is joy; a slight blip of hope humming under our heroine’s skin: hope to make a difference, hope to change a life, hope to find purpose despite her own tragedy. And there is love here; a profound love of self that must fight its way to the surface and overcome. This is a book I will gladly re-read, time and time again.

Purchase your copy