Crucially, Donoghue crafts a believable bond between Noah and Michael.
Her portrayal of an 11-year-old in particular is almost note perfect. There are insertions-of everything from knock-knock jokes to heartbreaking fragments of history and genuinely interesting science facts-that work harder to pull you into this world than any amount of edge-of-your-seat plotting. Donoghue, who lived there for two years, captures Nice during Carnival vividly, detail after detail painting a portrait so real the combined smells of urine and socca seem to waft off the pages. It succeeds, you see, because it just does so many things right, a melody that’s pleasing simply because there are no off notes. It has none of the high-stakes drama of the Man Booker Prize-shortlisted Room or the magical gimmickry of The Wonder, but Akin will satisfy Donoghue-ites just as much as her previous best-sellers.
A quietly delightful read, perfectly calibrated for deep enjoyment.
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