“There are things we must fail to consider if we want to get along in life.”
Every now and then, a novel slips quietly into your hands and surprises you, not with fireworks or plot twists, but with the slow, luminous ache of recognition. Mary Otis’s Burst is that kind of novel: a beautifully wrought exploration of the fragile, combustible bond between mother and daughter, the inheritance of wounds, and the uneasy choreography of love and addiction.
At its center are Charlotte, a mercurial, free-spirited alcoholic, and her daughter Viva, a gifted dancer whose body becomes both escape and expression. Otis captures their relationship in constant motion, sometimes graceful, sometimes chaotic, always pulsing with emotion. It’s not the first time we’ve met a literary drunk or a daughter trying to break the cycle, but Burst feels distinct because of its quiet precision. The writing is sharp without cruelty, lyrical without indulgence.
Charlotte is at once maddening and magnetic. She fails often, loves fiercely, and is never simple to judge. Viva’s coming-of-age is written with tenderness and frustration in equal measure; she longs for freedom yet remains tethered by her mother’s shadow. When tragedy strikes, Viva’s descent feels almost preordained, and the reader watches helplessly as she stumbles toward the same precipice Charlotte once danced upon.
Otis excels at showing how love can both wound and redeem. Her sentences are graceful, often undercut by a truth so keen it draws blood. There’s humor here, too, small, human flickers that keep the novel from sinking under its own weight. By the midpoint, the narrative deepens, and what begins as a familiar domestic story transforms into something larger: a meditation on resilience, artistry, and the ways in which we both inherit and defy our parents’ mistakes.
If the pacing falters in the first half, it’s only because Otis is setting her stage with care. Once the rhythm takes hold, Burst becomes exactly what its title suggests, a sudden flare of light, grief, and grace.
It’s not a perfect novel, but it’s a profoundly human one. The characters linger long after the final page, like music you can still feel in your bones.
Four stars; gorgeous, aching, and unforgettable.