An elegant, somewhat aloof rumination ... Written in unembellished, detached prose that is as involved with itself and its imprecision ... There is no simple toting up of all the factors and arriving at a satisfactory explanation ... A commemoration of her sons’ brief lives, an elliptical documentation of their vivid, singular presences before they disappeared ... [A] disturbing, inconsolable tribute, a memoir unlike others, strange and profound and fiercely determined not to look away.
The volume is full of the boys’ presence as Li crafts an ethereal memorial ... Lack of a precise descriptor does not prevent Li from beautifully narrating her nonlinear, never-ending odyssey of pain ... In writing like Li’s, however, even absent children can live on.
