The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey



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“Jack wasn’t one to believe in fairy-tale maidens made of snow. Yet Faina was extraordinary. Vast mountain ranges and unending wilderness, sky and ice. You couldn’t hold her too close or know her mind. Perhaps it was so with all children. Certainly he and Mabel hadn’t formed into the molds their parents had set for them.
It was something more, though. Nothing tethered Faina to them. She could vanish, never return, and who was to say she had ever been loved by them?”
It’s a raw book, obviously Ivey’s first. Yet it cuts me to the heart, as it would any mother who’s loved a child with all her being. Perhaps, in fact, too much.
The minute I start holding expectations, forming a mold for someone I love, is the minute that person starts to suffocate. And, the only place to go from there is far, far away.
by Eowyn Ivey