Weeks after reading the final page of Lidija Hilje’s debut novel, I’m still wondering what her characters are doing now. From first words to last, I found myself completely immersed in a place I’ve always wanted to visit, the Croatian coastline; an amazing achievement for an author writing in her second language.
“Sometimes I stalk my ex-husband,” the story opens.
I open his socials and sift through his photos. I know their sequence like I know the palm of my hand. Better even, because I can never memorize what my palm looks like, how the life line twirls into the love line, how it begins tight and uniform, but then turns ropey. It scares me to look at it, to trace the lines, to see where they might lead me in years to come. But I know Vlaho’s photos by heart.”
We soon learn that Ivona, the narrator, was the one to end their marriage, even though she’s still in love with her ex-husband—who’s now remarried with kids. That sets up the story’s central question: Why did she do it then? Breadcrumbs dropped gradually accumulated into a suspicion that was eventually confirmed, which is always quite satisfying; as if the book is nodding along, saying, “you were right.”
Along the way, Hilje drops in everyday concerns of life in Croatia that are both specific to the country and universal enough to be familiar. Years after college, she is working at an unsatisfying job and taking care of her house-bound father; always putting others first. Though her overall character arc is predictable, an unexpected level of complication helped make the book both richer and more lifelike; even as she grows, Ivona doesn’t get everything she wants.
The novel is structured as a series of flashbacks interspersed with “now” (though the exact year is unspecified). This slow but steady drip of memories shows how Vlaho and Ivona met, fell in love, and then divorced. Meanwhile, scenes set in the present day drip with regrets. “I can’t remember the last time someone said I had potential,” we read at the end of the first chapter. “But the thing about potential is that it doesn’t go away. If you fail to realize it, you don’t simply lose it. Instead, it sediments inside you, like tar or abestos, slowly releasing its poison.”
Though the book could probably be shorter, I so dreaded finishing that I was glad it included all that detail. And, except for the extra S in the title (undoubtedly the work of a British editor), I was never distracted by word choices or sentence structure; this is a book that reaches across language boundaries to inspire all of its readers to follow their dreams. Here’s hoping this debut author will continue writing in her second language, if only so I can learn more about Croatia from an insider.
Got a book that took you somewhere new? Share it in the comments below, or send me an email. I read every single one, with gratitude. Thanks for being here, and see you next Thursday.
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