The new novel by one of the major figures of contemporary Canadian literature in which the narrative energy of an unusual voice leads the reader into a space where literature is as much the poison as it is the antidote.

You have never cultivated your own garden. With these words a girl begins a long letter to her missing mother. While the sentence might sound like an accusation, it is rather an invitation to converse in a literary garden where, despite the pain and sorrow, roses, peonies and hyacinths continue to bloom.

This story is an homage to flowers, to rebirth, a call to better times in which the world can blossom again.