Rebecca Podos

The Mystery of Hollow Places is a deft little emotional mystery, featuring a likable teenage protagonist unraveling the mysterious disappearance of both her parents, one in her past and one in her present. It's about love, loss, mental illness, and the slippery illusion of self.

[W]ith enough time and the right conditions, precious stones could grow in hollow places.

Imogene Scott is seventeen and doesn't remember her mother, who left when Imogene was very young. All she really has of her is show more the fairytale-esque story her father told her every night as a child about how they met and fell in love. The centerpiece of this story is a stone heart, purportedly from the chest of Imogene's maternal grandmother, a representation of the illness that closed her off to the world. Imogene and her father are very close, and even the relatively recent addition of Lindy, their former therapist and her father's new wife.

The book starts with Imogene's father disappearing, leaving no note or explanation to his whereabouts except half of her grandmother's stone heart. Both Lindy and Imogene are distraught, but it is Imogene who decides to start with the clue the stone heart provides: she is sure that her father is looking for her mother. With her beautiful best friend Jessa in tow, Imogene starts piecing together parts of her mother's past from vague clues.

Imogene is a likable character. She's an introverted bookworm, content to spend time with her father or alone reading, particularly if the books were written by her father. Her mother's disappearance has left her with insecurity and fear related to abandonment. Imogene thinks her best friend spends time with her perhaps out of misguided childhood loyalty rather than simply because Jessa loves her. Imogene is mature and clever, but self-aware enough to recognize that she is still a child, especially when she allows herself to daydream that she will locate her mother and her father together and they will all be a family again, happy in their new roles.

I could forgive my mother for being cursed, and lonely and troubled waters. All of that made sense. But I don't think I'll be able to forgive her if she's happy.

Imogene is flawed but earnest, and I liked that. She doesn't serve as a symbol of resistance like the heroines of The Hunger Games or Red Queen, she doesn't have the highly sexed dark, pseudo-wit of teen murder mystery protagonists, she's anxious and self-conscious but smart and driven. She draws heavily on her father's books for inspiration in tracking down her mother, I thought that was a really nice character point as it really showed the closeness of Imogene and her father.

The Mystery of Hollow Places uses such strong metaphors for depression, weaving them in carefully in many places like the stories Imogene's father tells and the ways Imogene relates to everyone.

I get closing up your heart because you're afraid to look inside and find out it's hollow. I get choosing to be alone because you're afraid that if the choice is out of your hands, you'll simply be lonely, and alone is okay, it's almost cool, in a way.

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I'm not Jewish, but that wasn't a hindrance in terms of understanding and enjoying the mythological aspects of this book. Siblings Hannah and Gabe are abandoned by their secretive, gadfly mother right after Hannah starts having strange and scary things happen to her body, things like odd eyes, a tail, spines, horns, and wings. These change while she is asleep, night after night. Mom left in a frantic mood, promising that she would find a person who would make things right.
Weeks later, Mom is show more still missing and the siblings are getting desperate, when a letter with no return address arrives, containing a newspaper cutout about a very old woman who has died in a town they have never heard of. With no other lead, they take a train, then a bus, and land in the small town their mother grew up in. Once there, they discover a large family they never knew about, more questions than answers about their mother, a strange object in a decrepit barn, and a threat they have to be incredibly crafty to address. Hannah also meets Ari, daughter of her mother's erstwhile best friend. The author does a great job building the chemistry between the two girls. She also uses flashbacks from 1990 when their mother was a teen, that combine several generations of family history with their mom's feelings of being suffocated by her own mother's terror.
In sum, a dandy blend of elements that keeps readers flipping pages and eventually finding a very satisfying end. show less

The execution of the conflicts, both in Yael and Margot's budding romance and with the Claunecks, fell flat many times for me.
I wasn’t really taken with these two’s reasons for not getting together and later breaking up. First Margot just doesn’t like to fuck her friends and mess up a platonic thing… okay, fair enough, but weak reasoning when you both are not only so obviously hot for each other, but also just as obviously interested in not keeping this a friendship. Though you can show more find other reasons for these two to tread carefully when getting into a relationship, that was the one that got articulated the most while being the most shallow.
Then their third act break-up — they are both acting so dumb. Yes, flawed, damaged people make flawed choices, but they had proven capable of communicating and supporting each other before. It would have been a nice progression of their relationship for them to actually choose to face the threat of Yael’s family together and make a plan together, demonstrating both of how functional their relationship could be despite their various hangups and their individual growth (Margot accepting that she needs to trust others and accept their help; Yael having a cause that means something to them and the strength to go against their family purposefully rather than only impulsively). Something like that comes later, but I think it’s made weaker by the fact that Margot had little role in their triumph, Yael’s choice felt less their own or less considered, and the later placement in the book ended up making it feel rushed.

I had similar feelings of interesting concepts for conflict deflating as well with Margot's parents. I was disappointed when it was revealed that Margot didn't actually do this thing that she harbored so much guilt over. It wasn't her arrogance/foolishness/naive hope or anything at all that really led to her parents being cursed, despite how she presented it. It made her more boring to me honestly. The resolution with Margot’s parents also felt rushed. As much as Margot’s guilt was misplaced and brushed away by some encouraging words from Yael, it was initially an important part of her character. Combine that with the complicated feelings she (and the rest of the town) must have for them regarding their role in everything, I wanted to see… something, anything from Margot and their reunion. Instead, it happens off page and there are no interactions between the Greenwillows. It left the magic sleep feeling very noticeably a contrivance to get the older Greenwillows out of the picture. show less

Delicious cozy romantasy in the best of all possible ways. Love the greenhouses and each wonderfully lush plant filled setting that emerges. Love the characters -- Margot and Yael are dreamy, and their love scenes are steamy. Love that the height of contentment is to work hard and spend time with each other and feel secure in a home that is enough. I mean, I think that's what draws me so strongly to the cozy fantasy genre -- it's about living a small and contented life that has enough for show more delight but no grand ambition for wealth or power. Just to be yourself, and to be loved for that, and to have a safe place to live and love. Gorgeous. Funny in places. And I'm a big fan of universes where non-binary is a totally unremarkable option. Looking forward to book 2.

Advanced Reader's Copy Provided by Edelweiss. show less