That Most Lonely Place

Silence enfolds the Borya family and the small, sparse world that they inhabit, wrapping around them tightly, constricting them. “The Boryas don’t speak much in the lighthouse,” as the sound of the waves is too loud. Neither do they speak much outside of it: “No one speaks of these things, evident to those in the know.” But what is not said holds more significance here.

The Body of the Beasts is daring and darkly erotic, as emotionally and morally elusive as the characters who roam within it. Theirs is a world that exists beyond words; richness abounds in the quiet places. Acts take place that are not spoken of, perhaps should not be spoken of — family secrets and indiscretions. Boundaries are pushed, and the nature of blood bonds, of love and loving, is brought into question. This is a novel about the knowableness and unknowableness of people, of alienation and liberation, of desire and experience, and how it shapes us. But most of...