The narrator, a twin whose brother has taken his own life, reflects on their shared childhood and adult lives, trying to make sense of her brother’s choice as she grieves.

I really enjoyed this one, but I actually don’t have all that much to say about it. It deals with heavy topics - suicide and the grief of a twin uncomprehendingly left behind - but is also deadpan witty, with a good vein of what I tend to think of as millennial humour. It’s a tricky line to walk, but Posthuma manages to get the balance between serious and funny right.

Told in vignettes that jump around, it’s not a style that will work for everyone, but I found it mirrored the non-linearity of grief. Grief has a way of warping time and dredging up seemingly disconnected memories and fragments of memories, making it difficult to focus as one’s thoughts jump around. Sudden grief is disorienting enough, but the narrator is also facing the extra challenge of trying to make sense of the choice of her twin, confronting the thought that somebody who always felt part of her apparently no longer reciprocated that feeling, and the various tangents reflect that bewilderment.

A well-written, fragmented exploration of suicide and the bewildering grief of those left behind, balanced with unexpected moments of deadpan humour.