July 23, 2012
In Wetherell’s taut latest, Vera Savino, a middle school teacher, retreats to her sister’s summer home to escape an ugly family tragedy—her adult daughter, Cassie, a National Guardswoman charged with overseeing Iraqi POWs, has been incarcerated for an uncharacteristic and reprehensible act. Vera’s husband is in denial and refuses to share the moral burden of their daughter’s transgression. Alone, Vera volunteers to repair the house, a fixer-upper north of Boston, hoping the solitude will allow her to come to terms with Cassie’s shameful deeds. But when Vera begins to strip the home’s wallpaper, she discovers that two mysterious women have written confessions on the underlying plaster, accounts that overlap with Vera’s own painful story. United by their contiguity with terrible heartbreak, Vera and her forebears find solace in the promise of one day revealing the truth. Wetherell (Chekhov’s Sister) impressively captures a diversity of voices, telling distinct but parallel stories whose moral arcs resonate across time. The book examines the conditions under which good people breach their own moral codes, and explores how love can torment as much as it heals.