Cirrus@Austlit

'When describing loss, it is tempting to characterize it as an unexpected and often brutal visitor. In one moment, we are defined by what we own. In the next, loss arrives and our hands are empty. Our focus is often on that climactic moment when absence is fresh and irreversible. In Where the Trees Were, Inga Simpson constructs a very different reflection on absence and its definitive power. In this novel, loss is more akin to a heartbeat or breath—neither sporadic nor contained but rather a continuous presence embedded in life. Layering exploration of cultural theft with the fears and discoveries of adolescence, Where the Trees Were is a beautifully rendered reflection on loss and its definitive influence on both our individual and collective identity. ' (Introduction)