16-06-2025
- Entertainment
- New York Times
The Memory of a Teenage Golden Child Ripples Across Generations
BUG HOLLOW, by Michelle Huneven
Entering the lives of the Samuelson family in 1970s Altadena, Calif., feels like getting into a warm bath. Michelle Huneven's sixth novel, 'Bug Hollow,' instantly seduces even the most news-addled reader with its lovely, lucid prose, its spot-on period details (those pay phones!) and superb gift for description — of a sprawling cast led by a supportive engineer father, Phil, and a prickly elementary-school teacher mother, Sibyl; and especially of California's many wildly differing landscapes.
The Samuelsons' simple suburban world turns upside down when 17-year-old Ellis, the sunny eldest child of three, goes camping with his friends outside Santa Cruz and doesn't bother to come back. 'Some girl has snagged Ellis,' Sibyl frets. 'Good for her,' Phil says, and the marital tension is established: Dad is chill and Mom is a control freak.
Days turn into weeks with little contact from Ellis and a lot of panicking from Sibyl (is her son dropping out of college before he's even begun?), until the family tracks him to a rundown house in the Santa Cruz Mountains called Bug Hollow, the part commune, part crash pad where Ellis has moved in with Julia, an artsy, beautiful girl he met on the beach.
The young couple's joy brings back all the feels, as the kids say today — the aha-ness of falling in love for the first time — but Sibyl isn't having any of it, and brings her boy home to spend his last pre-college week with his family. As Ellis's youngest sister, Sally, the precocious and dryly hilarious narrator of the first chapter, puts it: 'Julia made a little speech about how she didn't want our parents to be mad at her because she and Ellis truly loved one another and would be together forever, and she hoped to love and be loved by his family, too.' My eyes filled.
It is not a spoiler to reveal that by Page 21, Ellis is dead: accidentally drowned in a quarry five days into his freshman year at Ole Miss. Phil goes down to Mississippi and returns with 'a box wrapped in shiny ivory paper and tied with a thick purple ribbon,' Sally narrates, thinking 'it was probably candy, and for everyone, another big assortment of chocolates he'd bought at the airport.' In fact, it is Ellis's remains. The lack of sentimentality surrounding this death is as shocking to the reader as it is to this repressed and soon-to-be fractured family who will carry this dead child along with them emotionally for generations.
The novel evolves from its innocent opening into something more intriguing. Nothing (aside from the book jacket summary) prepares the reader for the five-decade international saga that unfolds in 10 discrete but interwoven chapters, each narrated by a different member of the Samuelson family or its widening circle. Formally, the result is something like a narrative love child of Alice Munro's novelistic short stories and Elizabeth Strout's novels of interconnected short stories.
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