Return by David Frankel



“…a churning mass pushing upwards…”

Eventually, after the “sacred standstill” of my review elsewhere today, this is a most powerful story with a ghostly feel in it of Elizabeth Bowen and her prehensile accoutrements and belongings of a home and its earlier denizens, at least it has that feel until this shocking journey ever towards its ending, where the above signature arguably becomes an emblem of what sticks up from the chair depicted on this work’s front cover. A story about a man walking forever, it seems, through the woods recurrently arriving at the garden gate of his boyhood home where the memories as ghosts or entities as real as the above ‘pushing upwards’ “to shift a great weight” — waiting for his erstwhile family there possibly to big him up, but “no one to great me on my return” amid the guilt complex of what happened to his father by dint of someone called Giselle, and by consequence to himself as well as to his mother, sister and brother…

“And, too, I can hear the sound of floorboards moving, the compression of wood under the shifting weight of a person.”


A Nightjar Press publication

Full context of this review:

One thought on “Return by David Frankel

  1. Pingback: DAVID FRANKEL: SINK RATE | The Gestalt Real-Time Reviews of Books

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