I WILL LEAVE YOU NEVER
For Zoë Penney, potential misfortune is always crowding at the periphery of daily experience. Someone has been prowling her Northwest town and setting fires all fall, and every snapping twig seems to signal the threat of new conflagration: “There was a humming in the air if you listened for it,” she ruminates, “a pressure behind the eyes you couldn’t rub away—a barely suspended sense of danger.” The novel initially appears to bear the hallmarks of a thriller—lurking shadows, a mysterious new neighbor, an ominous recurring nightmare—but before long, it becomes clear that there will be no climactic reveal of a vicious villain, no final-hour plot twists. The villain in this story is effectively nothing other than mortality itself, and its methods are mundane: illness, old age, accidents. Still, the events of the story are no less affecting for being familiar. As Zoë’s husband, Jay Penney, navigates treatments for testicular cancer and family pets face a litany of ailments, dread and grief saturate the atmosphere of their cozy house, and attention to external threats gradually fades in favor of more intimate concerns. It is the turn of the millennium, and although the computers have survived the threat of Y2K, Zoë’s peace of mind has not: “The year had safely turned and the only apocalypse now was this one.” At times, it can feel as if various story elements—including a terminally ill loved one and a dying dog—have been algorithmically designed to tug at readers’ heartstrings. However, Zoë’s interiority is rendered with earnest care. As her anxious vigilance begins to loosen into something like acceptance of the unknown, readers are treated to a poignant story of tenuous growth amid catastrophes.
