... a novel made of glass, possessing characteristics of both prose and poetry. It exists in that shifting, enviable in-between. This is a debut novel—'debut' is and isn’t accurate—written by an author in possession of a singular ear for the ways one can stretch and shape the English language and decades of experience as a poet, critic, and teacher ... Although I admit to being predisposed to admiration, I write with a renewed sense of awe—for this author’s mind, music, and embodied, compassionate characterization. The novel is also intricately plotted, but I hesitate to summarize it and spoil the pleasure of its mystical unspooling ... Spaar offers a stark, sorrowful look at illness ... My fear for this character was so intense I had to pause and remind myself: This is fiction. She is not real and in no real danger. Yet Spaar’s novel is so gripping—especially in the scenes concerning this character—I read forward with a visceral, maternal worry, wondering how Marlise would make it out of her illness, or whether, like glass dropped on concrete, she’d shatter.
Paradise Close is powerful fiction, its story told with irresistible momentum. Still, Spaar retains from her poetic style a fascinated fetish for language ... Her cast of characters are so mysterious and ethereal that at the outset they feel like mystical creatures borrowed from fairytale lore, but then unravel to extreme complexity, entrancing readers through their honest, raw, and frightening humanity ... he novel takes the shape of a glassy labyrinth, sometimes depositing you in a stranger’s bedroom, sometimes into the arms of true love, but more often, Paradise Close narrates existence’s cosmic strangeness of near-misses, momentary glimpses, and that eerie, electric feeling of passing your hand over a divider and sensing someone trapped on the other side, looking for you as well ... Spaar’s commanding voice reminds us that beauty is not only something exterior and observable but is also an obsessive gaze, a practiced lens, and a way of beholding ... Part Beauty and the Beast, part monk meditation, part pulse-galloping thriller, part Salingeresque coming-of-age with an untamable femme lead, part intoxicated art school sex party, part goldenrod glow the morning after a storm—this novel illuminates how we can rescue others by allowing our own rescue.
... vibrant language ... Ranging from the 1970s to the 2010s, this forthright and exuberant tour-de-force effectively plumbs a young woman’s artistic and sexual awakening.
... lush if flawed ... Spaar offers plenty of lyrical descriptions, but there’s a dissonance between the novel’s two halves that’s never resolved. It’s nicely written, but it doesn’t quite hang together.
