The story of a newly divorced young mother forced to reckon with the secrets of her own childhood when she brings her daughters back to the big house where she was raised.
Jones, an editor at The Atlantic magazine, is a deft writer, and her exploration of the confusing experience of childhood violation is somehow both subtle and unsparing ... A masterpiece of carefully crafted perspective and tone ... This is a woman—and a novel—determined to avoid confrontation and drama, and it’s surprising just how hypnotic that is to witness in Jones’s carefully calibrated telling ... Margaret’s plight may feel tragic, but it’s transformed by sheer force of will—and Jones’s tempered prose—into something heroic, even hopeful.
What surprised me most about Honor Jones’s debut novel, Sleep, wasn’t its smarts or its savvy, or even its astute renderings of motherhood, daughter-hood and the fraught enterprise of trying to regard each one through the lens of the other. No, what surprised me was that out of its careful, orderly prose...grew an exceptionally moving novel ... Introduces a measure of optimism and generosity I found refreshing ... Jones is very good at capturing how trauma can taint even small moments like these, in subtle and insidious ways — which is perhaps why she’s styled her prose so tightly. There are no crescendos here, no soaring, looping sentences full of ecstasy or dread. Instead she’s hung her prose on a tension rod of unease, a proxy for how Margaret experiences her everyday life. It’s tidy, and it works.
There is a lot of life rendered in this slim novel. Past meets present and present revisits past. And although it’s a quick read, with brilliant scenes and spot-on dialogue, the genius is in the layering. Character reflection (or lack of) is revealed in astounding ways, reverberating outward from the incident itself ... beautifully written novel of childhood trauma.
