Held

The luminescent latest from Canadian novelist and poet Michaels (Fugitive Pieces) follows a family across generations through love and war. The story opens in 1917 Cambia, France, where John, an English soldier fighting in WWI, lies wounded in the snow and thinks of his artist wife, Helena. Three years later, reunited with Helena but traumatized from battle, John attempts to continue his work as a portrait photographer. He’s both frightened and awed when he discovers that his photographs contain ghostly images of the subjects’ loved ones. The narrative then jumps to 1984, when Helena and John’s granddaughter Mara, a doctor who is four months pregnant, leaves her widowed father Peter and her journalist husband Alan in Suffolk, to join her former medical team in an unnamed war-torn country. Another section takes place in 1903 Paris during a seance with medium Madame Palladino and a group of scientific observers, including the Curies. Michaels links the various threads by exploring the thin divide between the living and the dead and the ways memory can carry her characters between worlds. Her stunning prose sustains the book’s enchanted mood from start to finish (John remembers how as a child, his grandfather’s boots were like “two holes into which his own child-legs could vanish entire”; Helena sees her middle-aged body as “A pear turning soft in the bowl”). Each page of this masterpiece has a line worth savoring. Agent: Andrew Wylie, Wylie Agency. (Jan.)