Review of "A Sister Ago" by Caitlin Buhr

Score: 92/100 (9.2 out of 10)

A Sister Ago by Caitlin Buhr is an emotionally-charged novel that explores themes of family, grief, and the complexities of human relationships. The narrative, rich with evocative prose and vivid imagery, delves deeply into the life of Christine as she grapples with the loss of her sister Rachel and the subsequent emotional turmoil.

The book follows Christine, a social worker who awakes to the devastating news of the death of her sister, Rachel, due to an overdose. This event sets the stage for a journey through Christine's memories and her present-day struggles. The narrative shifts between different timelines, providing a comprehensive view of Christine and Rachel's relationship, their family dynamics, and Christine's life as she tries to navigate her grief.

Christine reflects on a lot of the ups and downs of her relationship with her late sister, memories which both haunt and inspire her, particularly in her line of work—where she encounters many homeless and those struggling with mental illness and trauma—and as she connects with others in therapy who've experienced similar losses.

One of our favorite memories of this sisterly bond is when they raced their bikes after Rachel received the BMX bike she got for Christmas. As people who grew up riding bikes with our siblings, this really resonated with us.

You could make the argument that the loss of her sister really helps Christine to become more sensitive, empathetic, and a bit less self-centered. She definitely becomes more considerate of the needs and feelings of others as the book goes along.

It should be noted that at many points in this book, Christine seems to be teetering on the verge of losing her self and her sanity. For example, while babysitting, she realizes how much power she has over the children and that she could literally kill them both if she really wanted to. This thought horrifies and mortifies Christine just as it would the rest of us.

This is an example of a psychological phenomenon known as the “call of the void” or “high place phenomenon.” It's the bizarre feeling that many human beings have when, for example, they're at the edge of a cliff with someone and wonder what would happen if one of you fell, if you jumped, or if you pushed the other person. It's a drive to do dangerous, irrational things just because you can. Suicidal ideation is one such example of this phenomenon.

This actually demonstrates the way in which the author effectively showcases their knowledge of psychology, which plays throughout the book.

Going back to Christine's memories of Rachel, we get a mixture of good and bad times, demonstrating the ebbs and flows—the waves—of any relationship. We get the feeling pretty early on that Christine and Rachel were once very close, yet drifted apart for whatever reason. Rachel definitely comes across as the problem child or the prodigal child. Anorexic from a young age, Rachel developed a penchant for alcohol and addictions, including abusing prescription medications. Among these medications are Klonopin (benzodiazepine) to help her sleep and Percocet to help her to cope with her pain.

As we read in RUNAWAY TRAIN by Krista Cambers, alcoholism can have tragically fatal consequences. And, as we read in Reality Check by Mike Sorrentino, prescription medications can be just as addictive and dangerous as street drugs.

What's kinda interesting about this book is that Christine is constantly learning more and more, not just about her sister and the other people her life touched, but also about the various problems that are applicable to the people she helps via social work. Rather than dismissing or being scared off by homeless and the mentally ill, as many of us would be, Christine's heart seems to grow to embrace them despite all their imperfections. In other words, she progressively and gradually becomes a better person.

The book tackles heavy themes such as grief, addiction, and familial expectations with sensitivity and nuance. Buhr’s writing is lyrical and evocative, often drawing on poetic imagery to convey the characters’ emotions. The use of Pablo Neruda’s poem "Only Death" as a recurring motif adds a layer of melancholy beauty to the narrative.

It should probably be mentioned that this isn't just a book about Christine and Rachel. Actually, it's far from it. Rachel's death also affects their parents, Stephen and Jeanette, who also must attend grief counseling in the aftermath. Furthermore, Christine connects with a few other people who've attended therapy including Keji Nakayama, who becomes a great friend and almost a surrogate sister, coming with Christine on a trip to find answers and even giving her a place to stay with her family.

There's also a secondary plot playing throughout the book in which the therapist, Walter Anderson, is quickly revealed to be an unethical, immoral person undeserving of the title of “professional.” He is a pervert and very likely a sexual predator. Furthermore, he exposes his clients' personal information to others, a clear violation of HIPAA and client-confidentiality agreements, something we're constantly reminded of (for some reason).

Walter Anderson reminded us a lot of Dr. Sherman from “Dream Me Home” by Laurie Elizabeth Murphy, who was also an unlikable, corrupt, and selfish therapist who abused his position to take advantage of victims. However, Dr. Sherman was simply a better, more compelling character. When we got done reading about Dr. Sherman, we still wanted to punch him in the face and break his nose. However, with Walter Anderson, we more so just wanted him to GO AWAY and not be in this book at all. Dr. Sherman didn't seem shoehorned-in the way that Walter Anderson does in this book.

The Walter Anderson story-line really seemed unnecessary and superfluous. Yes, it gave Christine and Keji a big, bad evil guy to go up against in order to show their increased courage, growth, and enhanced sense of justice/doing the right thing for others. However, it also seemed to distract and detract from the main story, that of grief and coping.

Another thing that also holds this book back a little bit is that a lot of the middle portion seems meandering, start-and-stop, and disjointed. That's a problem that compounds and snowballs as we keep flipping back and forth between the past and present. To be honest, we started on a high, then progressively got bored and lost interest. Maybe it's just that we came off the high of reading two very exciting, thrilling novels.

This is more like a Leslie Kain novel. While very deep, involved, and focused on the psychological states of the characters, it's also slower-developing and plodding.

That's not to say there were awesome parts of this book that had us excited. We already talked about the biking scene with the sisters, but there are also a few others. There's even some humor and lighthearted moments to be found. There's a running joke that Rachel was a lesbian simply because she never committed to a serious relationship. Though the reader (and Christine) are aware of Rachel's promiscuous behavior and very active sex life, her parents are left in the dark about it and brace themselves to support a LGBTQA+ child. There's actually some pay off to this as we learn that one of the side characters, Carmen, is actually either bisexual or a lesbian who may have even harbored an attraction for Rachel (though she also seems to think of her as a sister). Christine's realization that Rachel wasn't exactly the most conventional person in terms of sexuality allows her to better sympathize with Carmen and others like her, the same way she can sympathize with those suffering from addiction and alcoholism (like Bill does).

Perhaps our favorite scene in the entire book is the inevitable funeral they hold for Rachel. Naturally, funerals are powerful, important scenes, but this one seems to hold a special weight and importance. First of all, there's a vivid description of Rachel's appearance, which is full of ironies. For example, she wears makeup, something she would never wear. She also appears lively despite being lifeless and appearing like a deathly, 90-something pound anorexic girl in the later portion of her life.

However, our favorite detail we're given in this scene is that of the two freckles or birthmarks that adorn her nose even in death. A part of us can't help but view this poetically as a kind of binary, like two stars circling each other the way that Christine and Rachel do.

Check it out on Amazon!