From the back cover: Bonaventure Arrow didn’t make a peep when he was born, and the doctor nearly took him for dead. But he was listening, placing sound inside quiet and gaining his bearings. By the time he turns five, he can hear flowers grow, a thousand shades of blue, and the miniature tempests that rage inside raindrops. He also hears the voice of his dead father, William Arrow, mysteriously murdered by a man known only as the Wanderer. Exploring family relics, he opens doors to the past and finds the key to a web of secrets that both hold his family together, and threaten to tear them apart.
The Silence of Bonaventure Arrow introduces readers to an altogether enchanting little hero of the 1950s, who has something to teach all of us about the art of listening. But if you’re looking for a quick-paced page-turner, you won’t find it here. Instead, you’ll find a wildly imagined story that spools out as languidly as a N’awlins drawl. Leganski chose every piquant word with the care of a Creole chef. Her plot holds several savory twists, with an especially delicious nibble at the end. It’s a story of hope, love and forgiveness, and yes, even a taste righteous vengeance. All of which points to the wondrous, loving hand of an attentive, creative God.
The Silence of Bonaventure Arrow is nothing less than poetry in prose.
Thanks to She Reads and Harper Publishers for providing me a copy to review. All opinions are mine.