AFTERLIFE: BOOK REVIEW
It is rare that I find myself reading a book that centers on characters above middle age, it’s even rarer that they are women, and rarer still that they are four sisters. Maybe these books exist, but they’re not often written for a wide audience. Afterlife by Julia Alvarez is a short novel that manages to cover a lot of ground. Love, loss, grief, family, and moral quandaries give this book and its plot plenty of texture. The four sisters in the novel feel young and fresh despite being well into their sixties, and their problems, thoughts, and feelings easily garnered my attention and empathy. I was quickly invested in these sisters, their stories, and their playful dynamic.
We begin the story with Antonia, who has recently lost her husband. Antonia’s grief is still fresh enough that the memory of her husband, Sam, enters her decision-making process and day-to-day musings. It sometimes feels as if he is still alive and present, even though the first chapter after the prologue is set some time after his death — yet, this feels authentic to Antonia’s grieving process. She doesn’t want to lose too much too quickly, attempting to forge an afterlife for Sam as she goes about her daily life. Living in Vermont, she sees firsthand how undocumented immigrants are often treated — it is there that she is faced with the first test of her morality that will follow her deep into the story and inform her future decision-making.
We don’t get to see her grieve for too much longer before her sisters enter the scene. Antonia’s grief, although seemingly placed on pause, permeates each and every social interaction in which she partakes. This adds to the realism of the story and its characters; people don’t just forget what has happened to them when a new plot point is introduced into their life. And so, not even halfway through the story, Antonia must contend with the death of her husband, the disappearance of her older sister, Izzy, and the reactions of her two sisters to the trials they face on their search for the eldest sister.
Antonia must also contend with the fact that she does not know who she is without the steady, predictable personalities of her loved ones. She often calls on what she knows about her late husband in order to make important decisions. She gauges what her role among the sisterhood should be based on her understanding of her sisters’ characters. With one sister missing and Antonia grieving, their whole dynamic is thrown out of balance. We are an amalgamation of the people we surround ourselves with, and at the same time we observe their behavior and act accordingly, filling in any gaps we may see. Alvarez knowingly captures the confusion and disorientation of losing a loved one in her depiction of the sisters.
This is not an action-packed novel. It is one about the smaller, more intimate details of family, love, and loss, and how they shape us as people. This is a novel about the choices we make, and the ways that they flow into other choices like rivers feed into small babbling brooks. It may not be exciting, but I felt privileged to witness Antonia’s fight, even if it was quiet and understated at times. Towards the end we really get to see just how much she has been shaped by the people she has lost — as we all are.