Kala

Small towns in cozies tend to center on sumptuous bakeries, homey libraries, and kind neighbors. Walsh and his characters aren’t here for that. Instead, they kick you upright to witness the rot that can set in when greed, fear, and both too much and too little hope clash in a small community. The story here focuses on the titular character, a member of a Kinlough, Ireland posse of teens who make fast, cutting judgements—some startlingly accurate—about those around them. Those judgements and their attendant goings-on follow the group over decades. Except for Kala, that is, because she goes missing as a teen, an event that’s explored through flashbacks to that hormone-and-sunshine-filled time and in the present, when one of the gang returns to Kinlough for a wedding and Kala’s disappearance becomes a focal point once more. This is far more Stuart Neville than Maeve Binchy, and includes both graphic descriptions of animal abuse and child abuse that happen off the page, but if you can stomach those scenes, you’re in for a memorable tale with not a word wasted. Side note: until I checked, I thought this was written by an Irish woman, as my days as an all-girls’-school-schoolgirl in rural Ireland were that faithfully reproduced (hand me the smelling salts whenever you get a chance).