Night Swim

Keener's debut novel tells the story of a Jewish teenager, Sarah, who is looking back from the present to her 1970s adolescence. While her story follows the predictable path of a teenager who acted out after the death of her mother, it's full of emotion and depth that the listener can identify with. Rachel Botchan narrates in an even, neutral voice. This approach captures the perspective of the adult Sarah but not the drama of her teenage years. Furthermore, it doesn't engage listeners with the loneliness of the teenager as she seeks love and acceptance outside her family. Botchan provides some variation in her reading, most notably in the childish tones of Sarah's troubled mother. While Botchan clearly conveys Sarah's story, her reading lacks the spark that would make this story hard to walk away from. E.N. © AudioFile 2012, Portland, Maine

April 16, 2012
Keener's debut novel is a coming-of-age story that begins, like so many remembrances, with a voice from the pastâmiddle-aged Sarah Kunitz is married with three grown children, but is called back to her own childhood when an unexpected email arrives from Mickey Fineburg, the boy she kissed under a broken pool table at age eight. The majority of the novel comprises vivid vignettes wherein Sarah recalls being a teenager in 1970s upper-class suburban Boston, the only daughter among three brothers. When Sarah's mother tragically dies in a car crash, the young protagonist is prematurely propelled into adulthood and its concomitant dramas of sex, self-discovery, and coping with inevitable loss. While each chapter feels self-sufficient, their loose ordering lends a dreamlike quality to the novel, appropriate for a recollection begun at a "deep hour" of night, when time "doesn't follow lines but circles and dips into underwater caves." Though occasionally belabored by grander themes for the most part left unexplored (e.g., Sarah's Jewish heritage and brushes with anti-Semitism), as well as unbalanced language (compare the weirdly comic description of a sexual encounter as "a quick, slippery ride" with the poetically strange notion of the sun resembling a fetus), Keener's evocation of a young woman coming into her own is nevertheless moving.