Lane crafts a hushed novel of repair, memory, and belonging in which the transformation of an abandoned chapel parallels the quiet realignments of its restorers.
At the center of the narrative, set in the small town of Wintermere, are Sera Linden and Julian Vero, whose bond is revealed less through dialogue than through silence, shared labor, and gestures that skirt definition. Sera is leading a local revitalization project while Julian is undertaking a personal rebuilding task at the chapel.Their companions along the way—bookshop owner Ruth, coffee shop owner Gwen, cafe worker Jane—bring shades of conflict and communal tension, but the narrative’s truest focus is the slow, nearly devotional attention to the space in which they dwell. St. Avila’s chapel emerges not only as backdrop but as a living presence: damaged, tended, and finally restored without spectacle. Lane weaves recurring objects—a compass, sea glass, ash, wildflowers—into a symbolic range that roots the novel’s abstractions in tactile forms. Lane’s prose is lyrical and deliberate, its rhythm closer to liturgy than to plot-driven fiction: Time blurs, and chapters linger in long stillnesses in which light through a window or a hand touching a wooden doorframe carries emotional weight: “Sera stood at the threshold, one hand brushing the frame, as if needing to feel the grain of it before entering.” The work is not one of dramatic revelations but of placing of a piece of sea glass on a windowsill, or assembling an altar without ceremony. The closing movement shifts outward, showing St. Avila’s as a space that continues on, absorbing offerings from unnamed visitors and rumored to harbor two silent figures at dusk. The effect is elegiac and quietly mythic. However, the risks of such narrative restraint are real; the novel sometimes sags under its own quietude with extended passages of silence and symbolism that risk redundancy. Secondary characters recede in the final chapters, leaving the ending feeling almost too ethereal, with its emotional resonance dependent on readers’ patience with ambiguity; as such, those who might crave sharper dramatic arcs or concrete closure may find frustration.
A contemplative, risk-taking novel that favors resonance over resolution.