Branum is a taut storyteller who reveals and confides with great skill, in a narrative composed of addictive passages rather than conventional chapters ... This hypnotic and philosophical debut considers the act of defenestration as something more profound than an accident or a mere unfortunate end. Through the lens of memory, Branum refracts the layers of truth, tragedy and faith that break a cycle of lives most at home in free fall.
Stylish, simmering ... Branum breaks up her novel into fragments, some only a paragraph long, and each with its own subhead. There’s a diaphanous flow to her storytelling, full of light and air, with darker notes that play off our hard-wired terror of falling, or basophobia ... Branum toggles between present and past, adroitly meting out her plot ... Some sections feel like padding, as though Branum is trying to convince herself (and us) that Defenestrate is more than a short story masquerading as a novel. She flirts with preciosity, particularly in her overbearing use of [Buster] Keaton ... But in a feat of literary archery, Branum’s lyrical prose hits its mark again and again, rich but never overly ripe, delicate but with a tautness that propels the narrative ... And the novel’s spare, ghostly mood recalls Jeffrey Eugenides’s The Virgin Suicides ... Evocative passages...stud the novel like diamonds. The story cuts back and forth, brimming with suspense. It’s always a joy to see a writer dig confidently into her gifts, as Branum does in Defenestrate. Her characters may fear falling, but this novel soars.
Shoves, falls, warnings, breaks and superstitions are heavily layered throughout the opening pages of Branum's work, yet the tension and foreboding are tempered by the richness of the characterization ... There is an element of predictability — the notion of falling, for instance, is sure to return — but the suspense continues to build. The quiet suspense works so well that the moments of violence and outrage are somewhat jarring ... Branum confronts existential questions with bold, clean prose that swings between gravity and deflection ... A beautifully structured work about ancestry, siblinghood, vulnerability and fear.
Narrated in short, anecdotal chapters, Marta’s first-person account of the twins’ shared life is perceptive and witty ... What this meditative, fragmentary novel lacks in narrative propulsion it makes up for in digressional detail. There’s also much sparkling imagery ... While its obsession with historical correspondences and coincidences can be overly schematic, the book’s single-minded focus on violent death by falling is almost Ballardian in its macabre beauty. Defenestrate is an original and engaging novel from a fresh new voice, one deeply committed to understanding the beguiling experience of twinship, and to writing twins from the inside.
Family drama is portrayed to magnetic effect in this outstanding debut ... It also manages to strike a difficult balance, bringing excitement to topics that otherwise might tend toward more sober introspection ... Branum paints a grimly realistic picture of a family in conflict ... What is most noteworthy about Defenestrate is how the author threads the theme of falling all through the narrative. Scenes unfold and then recur, looping back on themselves. It can be challenging to recall exactly where you — and the characters — are sometimes, but it’s worth the effort to follow along ... As a first novel, Defenestrate is impressively powerful. On page after page, Renée Branum manages to entwine the tall tales that shape all families with the real-world fallout those tales can cause. She also does a masterful job of rendering the sensation of falling, of spiraling in the air. The effect, like the novel itself, is spellbinding.
Written in sweeping prose rife with allegory (many unbelievable real-life falls told here), Branum’s first novel is an honest, beautiful tale of fierce sibling love.
Quirky and poignant ... Moody and descriptive rather than plot-driven, Branum's narrative jumps blithely through time without missing a step. While readers may guess the secrets Marta is careful to conceal from herself, the collage of striking scenes and reflections offers frequent delights. Readers willing to go out on a limb will find much to savor.
Branum makes excellent use of the fragmented structure of her debut novel, offering meditations on Prague’s rich history and architecture; Buster Keaton and his theatrical falls, as well as other historical people who famously survived falls; the difficulties of close relationships that define you but also bind you; and the complicated legacies of family stories that defy clarity or comfort ... A serious story, luminously told.
