It's easy to disappear when no one cares where you are, particularly when you're a woman warehoused in the 1930s mental health system. O'Farrell's telling of this story is beautiful. From the book's opening, her skill morphing language into sensual experience grips and holds her reader until the end. The intricately woven plot reveals not just the story of Esme Lennox, but that of those whose life her absence and sudden presence has affected. The transitions between those perspectives were a bit hard to follow, and the seam piecing together past and present was fine, if not abrupt at times. Understatement is a strength of O'Farrell, though nearing the story's resolution details become thinly vague. The sense of perpetual absence speaks most strongly in this book, and in the end, what's not said is the book's powerful message. ( )

Excellent! Twists and turns....

This book started out extremely slow - I don't know if it was the reading of it (I listened to it as an audiobook) but for awhile I thought that I wouldn't be able to finish it. However, by the end, I was finding excuses to be in the car. I wouldn't say it unpredictable, but the ride was definitely worthwhile. ( )

”We are all, Esme decided, just vessels through which identities pass: we are lent features, gestures, habits, then we hand them on. Nothing is our own. We begin in the world as anagrams of our antecedents.” The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox

This marvelous little paragraph sums up the theme of this wonderful and disturbing book. The book roams among time periods – Esme and her sister Kathleen’s childhood in India, their childhood and young girlhood in Scotland, Esme as a grown woman in the present, and the 60 years when Esme vanishes from the world.

The story is juggled adeptly with the story of Iris, granddaughter of Kathleen, who owns a vintage clothing store, is dating Luke, and has a step-brother named Alex. Iris is the granddaughter of Kathleen, who has Alzheimer’s and rambles on, giving tantalizing hints of things from the past. Iris learns with shock that she has a great-aunt, Esme, who nobody in the family has ever mentioned. Iris, more tenderhearted than she will even admit to herself, goes to see Esme, then eventually takes her in temporarily. Esme starts remembering things, and in conjunction with Kathleen’s ramblings we eventually learn about Esme.

The first twenty or so pages of this book didn’t grab me. I almost put it down, but it was for my bookclub and I was determined to read it. As I got further into it, and the hints and glimpses of truth showed through, I could hardly put it down.

I think it takes a great deal of talent to show things obliquely, through shadows, half-formed sentences, significant pauses, and the ramblings of an Alzheimer’s patient. The author, Maggie O’Farrell, does this beautifully. As the book progresses, we become increasingly convinced of some horrible incident, a family secret, a terrible injustice. Eventually things are said outright, but that initial frisson of “What if..?”, “Can it possibly be that….?” are part of a wonderful reading experience.

We aren’t let down. The denoument is shocking yet predictable. The book’s ending didn’t particularly please me in one respect, but left me with high hopes in other respects.

I loved the glimpses into Edwardian lives in India and Scotland and the rigid class structures and expectations that affected Esme so deeply.

This is a very good and thought-provoking book. ( )

Great story, I just wish it had been longer. The ending is incredible; I highly recommend this book.

Esme has been in a psychiatric institution for over sixty years, but its close means that she needs to go somewhere. Iris is Esme's closest relative. Somewhat reluctantly, Iris takes Esme out, but doesn't expect what happens next...

I thought the relationship between Iris and Alex wasn't overly necessary, but then I much preferrred Esme's story. The ending will keep you thinking about who was wrong and who was right. ( )