SIGH.
So this book is good, it’s really good. BUT CAN I HAVE A BOOK ABOUT HAPPY PUPPIES DURING THIS CHAOS? Like, every book I’ve read lately has been heartbreaking, and this is no exception. It’s fairly telling that my review is “whew, only a plane full of people died instead of threatening the whole world.”
We follow Edward, the sole survivor of a plane crash that has killed his entire nuclear family, and his acclimation to life after. Napolitano writes believably about Edward’s depression, which is why the interludes from the passengers on the plane are welcome – depression is awful, but a large part of it is that the dead feeling is also kind of boring. He bonds with a fellow misfit, and tries to integrate into his new family – his mother’s sister and her husband, and the ghosts of their failed attempts to conceive a child – while slowly allowing news of his accident to come back to him, as we flash back to fellow victims’ last moments on the plane and get to learn about their lives.
And then he finds the letters. Letters from family members of fellow passengers, letters begging Edward to do something for them, live his life a certain way, letters giving him sympathy, bags and bags of letters.
I won’t get into too much detail, but the last letter ruined me. It’s good and hopeful and uplifting, but again, is it too much for fate to send me a happy puppy book?