Review: Unfinished Acts of Wild Creation

Sarah Yahm's debut novel, Unfinished Acts of Wild Creation, is a pulse of energy, a current of light, a harmonic hum expressed through the unforgettable story of the Rosenbergs: Leon, Louise, and their daughter, Lydia. With impeccable pacing, Yahm passes the narrative of their lives across the decades--from the 1970s Shabbat dinner where Leon meets Louise mere hours after her mother's funeral, through Louise's deterioration from the same neurological disorder that took her mother, and forward into the uncertainty of life after unspeakable loss. Winner of the Dzanc Books Prize for Fiction, Unfinished Acts of Wild Creation is full of beauty and intelligence, showcasing Yahm's confident prose and wry humor.

Louise is a free spirit--irreverent and brash and open to the magic permeating the world. A classical musician, Louise carries in her body the prolonged death of her mother, whom she actively disliked despite her undeniable influence. She asks Leon: "Is it strange... to simultaneously miss someone and still hate them so much?" Years later, Louise learns she also carries in her body the genetic disorder that means she, too, will suffer an early and agonizing death. Desperate to save Lydia and Leon from the torture of her slow decline, Louise leaves their home, installing herself in a kibbutz thousands of miles away from New York. Leon, a therapist, does his best to care for Lydia as she deals with the departure of her mother and the knowledge that she might carry a genetic code that will one day destroy her.

Art, music, and profound acts of sacrificial care provide a compelling rhythm to the novel. Yahm describes the arc of Lydia's emerging career in academia from impulsive college student to a scholar researching her dissertation on post-trauma "imaginary play," as well as Leon's journey from traditional therapy into an unconventional career combining art and therapeutic care. These elements also infuse the rituals of sound and space that Lydia enacts as she sits shiva with her mother's body or the humming spell Louise attempts as treatment for young Lydia's OCD. Maybe "her mother was right," Lydia muses as she hums in a cave and finds that "the distinction between her voice and her mother's disappeared, like the two of them were one body made only of sound." Or maybe the magic is found in the ordinary bonds of a family, carried through impossible situations by the improbable strength of their love. --Sara Beth West, freelance reviewer and librarian

Shelf Talker: Unfinished Acts of Wild Creation tells the moving story of the Rosenberg family and the bonds they forge over decades of care and love alongside the harsh realities of pain and loss.

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