Description

Five years ago the eldest Furey son, Hugh, ran off into the night and never returned. His parents, estranged by grief, are trying to put the tragedy behind them after a long, exhausting, and fruitless search. His mother, recovering from an emotional breakdown, has lost herself in a new career; Hugh's father, having abandoned his faith and his position as a theology professor, now cares halfheartedly for their two remaining children. Left more or less to fend for themselves, ten-year-old Owen and fifteen-year-old Lena struggle to hold on to their brother's memory—an increasingly self-destructive obsession that gives rise to angel fantasies, drug use, quixotic quests, and dangerous experimentation that will ultimately force a damaged family to confront its past and find a future.

About the Author

Lisa Carey is the author of The Mermaids Singing, In the Country of the Young, and Love in the Asylum. She lived in Ireland for five years and now resides in Portland, Maine, with her husband and their son.

Praise For…

“[P]rose that blossoms like a bruise, both aching and vivid . . . heartbreaking and, ultimately, redemptive. A-” — Entertainment Weekly

“Carey skillfully unfolds . . . a compelling, believable portrait of the confusion of adolescence.” — Lisa Ko, author of The Leavers

“Graceful, affecting . . . rewarding, suffused in lucid grief and delicate longings.” — Publishers Weekly

“It’s impossible not to be swept along by the untidy, ultimately hopeful family drama.” — Booklist

“I read EVERY VISIBLE THING...late into the night, loath to put it down even to sleep...[A] remarkable feat.” — Ayelet Waldman, author of Love and Other Impossible Pursuits

“Heartfelt . . . Carey details the Fureys’ disintegration and tentative steps toward rapprochement.” — Kirkus Reviews (starred review)

“Powerful . . . Carey’s compelling, dark, and frightening story does promise a glimmer of hope.” — Library Journal (starred review)

“[B]racing insight and sensitivity...a dramatic reminder of just what a corrosive mixture grief and silence can be.” — Washington Post Book World