It's not a mystery, not a thriller, yet its both mysterious and thrilling. In tumultuous 1921 Ireland, an Irish landowner with an English wife get ready to flee the threat of their home being burned down. Their 7-year-old duaghter Lucy doesn't want to go and runs away. Through a terrible set of circumstances, she is presumed dead, and grief-stricken, they wind up wandering through Europe, completely out of touch with everyone they once knew. But Lucy isn't dead, and what happens to all of them makes for a quietly stunning novel about the role of chance and guilt in our lives. I could not put this down!"
I too read this recently, and second his thoughts. Reminded me of JC Oates, in that it was relentlessly depressing, a classical kind of tragedy. Like watching a train wreck in slow motion, horrible and yet so fascinating you must watch in horror.
Trevor is a GREAT writer. He's a good example of a writer who seems to know when to shut up - delete, delete, delete - edit, edit, edit - Oooh, that Lev has good taste.