I haven’t read any of Wilkins’ other five novels, so with this one I came fresh to his style and viewpoint.  It took me some pages to feel at home, but gradually his distinctive and detailed approach won me over.  This is a novel with resonances running off in all directions.

It’s character and theme-driven: there are arcs to the story, but they’re not what the book hangs upon. The characters are alive, and the themes are rich and varied.

For instance, it’s about language: the main mid-life character, Paddy, is a speech therapist.  He helps people to recover speech after an accident or, as is the case of one teenage boy, after they have retreated into silence for no obvious reason. And Paddy’s own (Kiwi) mother, one of the other major characters, has woken up one morning speaking with a strong French accent.   Perhaps it was the bang on the head she received a month or so before; perhaps there is no mortal explanation.    It turns out that such a thing isn’t unheard of – as Paddy and his sister discover from an Internet search.

It’s about relationships, and Wilkins seems to give us every thought behind the words that are spoken and the actions that are taken.    This could be irritating; instead, it’s fascinating – we’re constantly brought up short by what we discover is actually in people’s heads.   Furthermore, we learn not to judge everyone by who they appear to be.   There are some annoying people here, yet mostly they astonish us into sympathy with them.

It’s about secrets, and stories not told for decades – we don’t discover who the two girls on the cover of the book are until well into the story, and then we remember afresh – as Paddy has to learn – that parents don’t begin life as older people, and that their stories may contradict who we think they are.

It’s about bikes: the freedom they give and the freedom they take away – as Mr Mugabe from Zimbabwe learns in a brief moment of hubris.   Paddy has just bought a bike as the book opens; is it a fad, or will it really give him freedom? 

It’s about silence: the three granddaughters sit silent before the webcam vision of their grandmother and her cousin in another country; the young boy, Sam, says nothing at all for almost the entire book.   The centenarian Greek mother has never learned to speak in English, and spends her birthday party saying nothing.

I could go on.   All I can do is recommend that you read it for yourself, and enjoy.

Photo of the bike statue by Angela Sabas