The first page, which is really only half a page, sets up the story beautifully. We know the characters, and we know why they are feeling rough around the edges. And Paleobiologist? What a fascinating expertise to choose for a character.
I have been a big Ausbel fan since Awayland, which taught me that life is absurd, so maybe accept that and quit stomping through your life being mad about it. In the beginning of this story, the three main characters: mom and two teen daughters, are, due to a tragedy, locked into a constant state of sadness and anger. They haven't found a way forward through the fog of despair. Not yet.
The mother, Jane, though a highly qualified graduate student, is delegated to note-taking by her fellow scientists on a research trip.I can appreciate the author's emphasis on persistent sexism in academia, because that is absolutely true way too often.
The two daughters are sharp, aware, and wickedly funny. You get the distinct impression that they make the best of every reasearch field location, even if it would have been preferable to stay at home.
The major theme in this book is loss: the disappearance of the megafauna long ago, the loss of someone loved, and the looming losses via the Climate Crisis. How does one deal with past, present, and future loss all at once? Is there even a healthy coping strategy for all of that?
And, to add to this, is another kind of loss: the kind Rosalind Franklin experienced: having your ideas and discoveries stolen, and getting no credit for them. This has never stopped happening, just as double standards are still as predictable as the tides. Women in all academic fields are often judged on their appearance, while no one cares what a male scientist or professor looks like. Men are never questioned for leaving their kids at home, or going on long trips without seeing their families. Rarely has a man ever asked a male subordinate to get him a cup of coffee. No wonder so many women are angry.
With rage, as with grief, you have a few choices: swallow it, ignore it, or use it like flint, and let it sharpen you.
And once you decide you want to have sharper edges, it's not far off to want to do something extraordinary, for yourself, to quit being the always diplomatic, mild, invisible, people-pleaser.
From this state of mind, our adventure begins in earnest. Mother and daughters have lost cohesion and it will take outside pressure to regain their unity. It is only when they lean into their shared trust that true healing can begin for any of them. But first, they must embark on a singularly bizarre journey, where it seems unwise to trust anyone, and it's not paranoia if everyone seems creepy and suspicious, is it?
This was a truly enjoyable read, though I may skip castles in the Italian countryside for the forseeable future.