In any case, Isa Shepley and her accomplice, Gala Novak, are part party-girl, part bit character in a Hemingway novel, making pronouncements with the profound ring of truth in short-lived but memorable appearances. Perhaps because Isa, our narrator and heroine, is a drifting citizen of the world (in that she doesn’t really belong anywhere) and has a distinctly old world manner, or because the precariously unmoored woman, surviving on the strength of her youth and wits, is such an ancient and familiar type, it’s hard to think of her as a millennial. This effervescent debut novel, even when I was several chapters in, had the most persistent quality of timelessness I can remember, to the point where it took a fair amount of close reading and deductive reasoning to ascertain that it is, in fact, set during more or less the present day.
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