In Wueste’s novel, a man’s family struggles to accept him when he’s released after nearly 20 years in prison.

Matt Keegan, an upper-middle-class white kid, does a very stupid thing in high school: He becomes a drug dealer, and a very naïve fellow student overdoses on his product. Matt doesn’t help himself by playing it ultra cool and remorseless at his trial. After 20 years in a Maryland prison, he’s released on parole; his younger sister, Jenny Arvizu, is determined that he make it in the outside world, so she takes him in to the home she shares with her husband, Hector, and their daughter, Julia. Hector runs a cafe that already employs ex-cons, so Matt has a job waiting for him. Jenny is well meaning but can be too much of a mother hen, and her parents are deeply angry, even after all the years of their son’s incarceration. Matt’s dad, Ted, is not only sure that Matt is going to mess up again, but also hopes he will, wanting Matt back out of their lives; Matt’s mother, Helene, is even more rigidly furious. She tells Jenny that she “‘won’t be coming to visit as long as he,’ the reference to her oldest child always spit from her mouth like venom, ‘is staying there.’” Complicating things even further is Kenneth Hoskins, the father of the girl who died. He stalks Matt, determined to provoke the kind of confrontation that will send him back to prison. The stakes are clear in Wueste’s compelling narrative: The Keegans have lived in a world of pain but have to learn forgiveness; Matt has to really understand how many people he has hurt and just how badly he has hurt them. Readers learn in the acknowledgments how much research went into this book about a very important topic, which, by its nature, offers deep human lessons. Readers may be reminded of Anne Tyler’s work, and not just because this story is set in Maryland; Wueste, who’s won justified praise for her previous novels, is that good.

A patiently detailed and heartfelt book about a challenged family and forgiveness.

A woman’s unsent missives unveil a lifetime of love, regret, and reckoning in Wueste’s epistolary novel.

The story unfolds via the perspective of Art Burleson, a professional “death administrator” who’s been hired to sort through the belongings of the recently deceased Lucy Prior. What begins as a routine job turns unexpectedly personal when Art discovers a box of her meticulously written but never-mailed letters, each addressed to someone from her past. These missives, beginning with one addressed to “The Person Responsible for Closing out my Earthly Affairs” and ranging from heartfelt apologies to scathing confrontations, paint a vivid picture of a woman grappling with unresolved emotions, past betrayals, and the enduring ache of lost love. Through them, readers glimpse Lucy’s life in fragments: childhood wounds inflicted by an abusive father, deep friendships fractured by time and circumstance, and a decades-long marriage that shaped and sustained her. Her letters to lost friends are filled with longing and remorse, reflecting on moments when she failed to act or to speak when it mattered most. By contrast, her letters to those who hurt her—particularly her father—seethe with a fury long suppressed, giving voice to emotions she never expressed in life: “If there is a Hell, I’ll see you there, because if there is justice, I’ll be your jailer.” Wueste’s prose seamlessly balances sharp wit, aching nostalgia, and raw honesty. Some letters are devastating in their vulnerability, while others brim with quiet humor and acceptance. The novel’s structure, though unconventional, mirrors the meandering nature of memory and confession, making for an intimate, almost voyeuristic reading experience. While some letters linger on details that slow the narrative’s momentum, they contribute to the novel’s overarching theme: the weight of the unsaid and the power of finally speaking, even if no one is left to listen.

A deeply introspective and emotionally resonant novel.