When I picked up this novel, I fully expected an enticing thriller. The summary indicated that it had all of the elements of a classic suspense story: the disappearance of two young girls on a remote Russian peninsula; the intense suspicion aroused in an isolated community; the desperate police search that turns up seemingly nothing of value.
I must say, the phrase “Don’t judge a book by its cover” is quite apt here, because this book is not just a thriller: it examines the ways in which a single tragedy sends shock waves coursing through a community, ensnaring its residents. In lieu of a classic tale in which characters remain unfamiliar and suspect, this is an intensive character study. Julia Phillips acquaints readers one by one with various women who find their deepest vulnerabilities laid bare during and after the disappearance occurs. Each of these women’s fears and resentments are tied to the disappearance of the two girls on a surface level, but with each new woman introduced, the underlying effects of simmering ethnic tensions and culturally-ingrained misogyny in the Kamchatka Peninsula drift closer to the surface. There’s Valentina, who finds the disappearance an excuse to rail against the disintegration of the nuclear family structure and the collapse of the secure, ethnically segregated Soviet Union. There’s Natasha, a townsperson of native Evenk descent who wonders why the police seem to be doing so much for the two missing girls after doing so little when her sister, Lilia, went missing years ago. There’s Ksyusha, a university student who discovers that the disappearance has granted her abusive boyfriend the justification to expand his controlling habits. These are all women who find that the loss of two people they don’t even know personally is the catalyst for an explosion of frustrations, insecurities, and internal conflicts.
As I’ve mentioned before, I typically struggle with books that feature a new character each chapter, but the emotional strain and suffering each of these women experience—along with curiosity, joy, and love—made me feel like I was developing personal relationship over and over again. Phillips provides an incredible portrayal of the forces of change and destruction a single event can unleash and the ways in which trauma manifests differently in different people’s lives. Moreover, she skillfully spins her tale in a remote Russian location, demonstrating through her careful research just how severe the social ramifications were for women and native peoples after the collapse of the Soviet Union. And yes, Phillips did spend time in Russia’s Kamchatka Peninsula—she got a Fulbright Grant to study there, in fact! By the time I reached the climax near the end of this book, I was feeling a whole mix of emotions: rage at the incompetent police, sorrow for the families impacted, and empathy for each of the characters I connected with whose lives may never be the same.
The magic of this book lies partially in its remote, ethereal setting (a volcanic landscape packed with vast forests, oceans and tundra) and partially in the women who are trying to cope with a shocking event within the confines of their oppressive circumstances. This was a truly emotional read, and it provides readers with a dual representation of tragedy in a faraway place. On the one hand, the Kamchatka Peninsula’s turbulent history and tense social climate make tragic occurrences more potent. On the other hand, there is sense that wherever we go in the world, the exact same injustices and oppressions are binding people together or driving them apart.
