Part drama, part mystery, even part romance, The Sleepwalker touches a bit on multiple genres, all of which I love, and which may explain why I finished it in a day.

Lianna is the narrator taking us through the disappearance of her mother, but she’s not the only one telling this story. There’s another voice, a more ominous one, telling us what its like to be a sleepwalker. Though short and somewhat vague, this voice offers a chilling glimpse into the mind of someone that wakes up with physical and emotional scars they have no memory of receiving, or inflicting. What did they do? What did they say? Who did they hurt? Can they be forgiven? Do they want to be?

Lianna has always known her mother, Annalee, was a sleepwalker, but it wasn’t until her disappearance that she learned more about the condition, and her mother’s specific case. As someone with no experience with sleepwalking I found this fascinating. I thought the extent of sleepwalking was roaming around your house in a daze, maybe eating a snack or moving something to a spot it doesn’t usually go. I had no idea the extent to which people could operate while fully asleep, and its pretty mind boggling to think about. But I imagine if this condition plagues you or a loved one, you wouldn’t use fascinating to describe it. You’d probably choose isolating. Or debilitating. Maybe even deadly.

Sleepwalking seems to be the root of Analee’s disappearance, but the mystery into what happened is not one I got any closer to solving as I read further, a sign of a great story. I teetered back and forth between who was telling the truth, who was telling a partial truth and who was lying. I questioned everyone’s motives and whether they could be trusted. I questioned the cryptic messages from the sleepwalker; who was it? What were they trying to tell me? But while I loved the mystery I couldn’t really identify with it.

I could identify with the notion of what it means to love. Not just romantic love, but love. Every character in this book has some type of flaw. Lying. Keeping secrets. Distrust. Even sleepwalking. Often times the flaws were a result of good intentions, like trying to protect someone from emotional distress, but its hard to overlook bad deeds even when they are executed with the best of intentions. Yet these characters were able to look past the surface flaws to see the good in one another. They didn’t stop loving each other, which would have been the easy way out. It takes strength to really trust people, to believe in them. To love them. And because I admire that type of strength I admire these characters.

When tragedy strikes, how will you react? Will you lean on your family for support? Will you pull away? Will you put the blame on yourself or on your spouse? Or on God? Will you stay the same or become someone else?

These are just some of the questions that ran through my mind as I read Truly, Madly, Guilty. Obviously since I’ve said it there is some type of tragedy in this book, but since it’s not evident from the first page I’m not going to tell you what it is. Part of the experience is trying to figure out what ‘incident’ the characters are referring to as you re-live the memories sprinkled through their present-day lives. What could have happened to make people question themselves, their friends, their spouses? Their lives seem pretty ordinary. No different from mine really. So what is this ‘incident’ that’s got everyone riled?

Every character in this book has their own method of handling things, and while I can look at them from the outside and see what they’re doing wrong or what they could do better, I’m not sure I could do things differently if I were in their place. I’ve been fortunate not to have to face things that tested every aspect of my life, and I’m not sure how I would react in that scenario, even after learning a lesson from these characters about what helps and what hurts when you’re living through tough times.

This book opened my eyes to how varied and unpredictable emotions can be when they are tested. It made me wonder how I would respond in their place. I’d like to think I wouldn’t alienate people, but I’m not really the type to over-share or ask for help (ironic I know given what I’m sharing here, but writing to no one is easier than talking to someone). I’d like to think I would lean on my family, especially my husband, for support, but deep down I know I’d insist I was fine whether that was true or not. And I really like to think I wouldn’t blame anyone, myself included, if there was no blame to be placed. But I also know how much I like answers, so I’d try to manufacture them which could lead to feelings of blame and resentment. In short, I’d probably do all the things that are unhealthy and counterproductive, knowing all the while what I was doing but unable to stop it, because it’s not like you prepare for dealing with tough times; you pray that you don’t have to.

We all have our own definitions of ordinary, but I imagine for all of us life is fairly ordinary right up until it isn’t. Don’t we all think some of the sad and tragic aspects of life happen to other people, not us? So what happens if the sad and tragic finds us? Do we bend, do we break, or do we bounce back?

Author Gabrielle Zevin believes we tell stories to understand the world, and that we often view our own lives through the lens of a story, which is a perfect description for both the characters in this book and the people who will love it. If that sounds a little vague now, it won’t after you read the book.

Life on Alice Island doesn’t necessarily revolve around the town bookstore, except for the students and teachers, the police department, young mothers, and virtually all the tourists. So basically all the main characters seem to bleed words, much like I feel I do. There is no more perfect cast of characters for me than ones who find meaning, inspiration, or even escape, in the pages of a book, and for whom talking about books is the catalyst that drives lifelong friendships.

Each chapter begins with a reference to a book that the narrator finds relevant to that particular “chapter” in their lives. The Bookseller by Roald Dahl to reflect on the meaning of life; A Good Man Is Hard to Find by Flannery O’Conner to describe the search for love, and the narrator’s belief that you learn all you need to know about a person when they answer the question, “what is your favorite book?”; even Lamb to the Slaughter, also by Dahl, to give insight into both the reading preferences and the thought processes of the main character, A.J. Fikry. Essentially, famous and popular works help tell the fictional story of the lives of Alice Island residents, almost as if the characters themselves weren’t people but books.

As an avid reader I fell in love with the notion that we can learn more about ourselves through books. Characters or situations could mirror our own lives if we step outside reality and look at things through the fantasy lens, perhaps giving us strength, comfort, or a sense that we aren’t alone simply because someone was able to articulate in a fictional story what we have trouble seeing in real life. I fell in love with the notion that people can bond over a book because the story or the characters didn’t just entertain you but because they spoke to you and formed a connection. And I love the notion that communities can come together and learn to appreciate and understand and support one another through the simple pleasure of reading. If it wasn’t situated off the east coast and prone winter weather I’d rather not experience, I can’t think of a more perfect place to live than Alice Island, or a group of people I’d like to know more than its resident bookseller and his customers.

Can people in comas hear us? Can they understand what’s happening around them? Will they remember it when they wake up? That’s the question at the center of this book, and the author cleverly leaves it to us to determine the answer.

Mia and Adam are not your typical high school students. They are both exceptionally gifted in music and mature beyond their years. But otherwise they are complete opposites; from what they wear to the friends they have, even the music they like and the instruments they play. Yet music is such a presence in their lives that it enables them to develop a common language that brings them together.

Their story is told primarily through flashbacks, after a tragic accident, and it’s clear early on that this is not some teenage crush. They don’t waste time on superficial conversations; they explore each other’s passions, beliefs and dreams so thoroughly that they seem to become one. That’s not to say that they ever lose their own identities, they just make room for each other in their souls. I realize how ridiculous that sounds, but I think it can happen with really well-written characters and a talented author. My favorite fictional couple has this same quality about them, where the lines between them sort of blur despite them maintaining their own identities.

That’s how I see Mia and Adam. The depth of their feelings are unusual, but at the same time that intensity feels right given the bonds they share in multiple aspects of life. I don’t know if real people ever experience the intense connection that these characters do, but after reading about how their connection was formed I’d like to think its possible.

This story is told from Mia’s perspective, though she’s in a coma. Is she really remembering? Can she hear what being said around her? Can she feel Adam’s presence? I like to think that if my loved ones were ever in that position they’d be able to hear me, to feel my presence. That good memories and strong bonds will give them the will to live and help them pull through.

Despite the obvious sorrow in this book there are moments of happiness, laughter and of course love, not just between Mia and Adam but between her family, who are as unique in their makeup as Mia and Adam are in theirs. I found myself smiling as much as crying during this read, and ultimately wound up thankful I’ve never had to go through something like this, and appreciative of the little things you sometimes overlook in daily life that seem inconsequential but are critical to making us who we are.

Mae has just landed a job at the hottest company in the world, which is on the forefront of connecting the world online. Think Google meets Facebook/Twitter/Instagram meets Paypal. This connectivity brings about transparency, but at what point does transparency become an invasion of privacy?

I’ve tried about twenty times to start writing this and each time I stumble because there’s so much to say I don’t know where to begin. I guess the best spot is to say I have a love/hate relationship with technology. There are some obvious conveniences associated with technology, like working from the couch, being about to track my kids through a phone or a watch or, when they are old enough to drive, making sure distractions can be limited so for example the car won’t move if the phone is in use. There are also some disadvantages, like replacing meaningful personal relationships with superficial ones online, the idea that drones and other robots could replace jobs that people need, and cyberbullying, because let’s be honest people get brave when they can comment under anonymous usernames.

My love/hate examples may be different from yours, but what I think can be agreed upon is that each technological advancement that is achieved is initially undertaken with the best of intentions. Solving a need, improving lives, even pushing the boundaries of exploration, are all worthy pursuits. But sometimes these pursuits have unintended consequences. Robots may save companies money so they can invest in R&D, or cover employee healthcare, but those robots are replacing people who then need government assistance to survive until they find another job, if they find one. Shopping from your couch is unbelievably convenient, but its forcing brick-and-mortar shops out of business. Technology lets us keep in touch and/or exploit our exploits, but checking in tells thieves when we aren’t home and posting personal information exposes our identities to anyone watching.

The Circle is an extreme example of how worthy pursuits can spiral out of control. Only it’s not as extreme as you might think. When you control information you can control business, politics, even people. And by putting our faith in technology, by putting our entire identities online, we are voluntarily giving this information to anyone who wants to collect and use it. I am not perpetuating a conspiracy theory here and I am not preaching that technology is bad. I am suggesting that society is moving toward a more virtual presence than a physical one, and while that’s not entirely bad it may not be entirely good.

Back when there was a big debate about the government listening to phone calls to thwart terrorism I said let them listen to me, I’m not that interesting. If people object they’re doing something bad. But I see now that mentality was giving license to anyone to eavesdrop on me anytime, anywhere, even in the privacy of my own home. That mentality is essentially giving up privacy. And when we start to live virtually instead of physically we are doing the same thing – giving license to people and companies to be part of our lives. Right now we choose what they see about us, but what happens if one day we don’t have that choice, we become completely transparent so even the things we don’t choose to share can be found online. And what happens if there is only one entity that collects, stores and uses that information? Would we be ourselves, or would we be an extension of IT?

Lots of deep questions can be drawn from this book; I’ve barely scratched the surface. But the lesson I take from it is that there needs to be a balance between transparency and privacy, and we should exercise that balance ourselves.