This is a gorgeous, gorgeous heartbreaker of a novel. Wolf Bells follows a motley cast of characters who live in the House, a dilapidated historic mansion owned by Caz. A former punk singer, Caz once led a carefree existence and now finds herself at the helm of an experiment in communal living. The House’s elderly residents receive care from the younger ones, who stay rent-free in exchange for helping out. This precarious arrangement is constantly threatened by finances, health issues, and clashing personalities, but hums along until the arrival of two runaways. Young Nola and her nonverbal cousin James arrive seeking refuge, and the moral dilemma of what to do with them changes the House and its inhabitants forever.

I loved this book and its beautiful prose as well as the urgent and knotty questions it raises about care, community, and moral obligation. The author’s note reveals Zumas’ lengthy reading list and her research for the novel, but the book wears its erudition lightly. Instead, it retains urgency and humor by grounding the narrative in the distinctive voices of the different characters living in the House. Zumas doesn’t shy away from portraying each characters’ flaws as well as their humanity, and the characters felt fully realized and three-dimensional. If Red Clocks established Zumas as an author capable of tackling dystopia and reproductive rights, Wolf Bells takes up instead the issue of utopia. As the novel asks, “what would the world look like if everyone had a place to belong?” In Wolf Bells, she offers no easy answers or solutions, but her exploration of this question is well worth reading and I was glad to be along for the journey.

Thanks to the publisher and to NetGalley for an early copy of this book.

Such a strange, delightful, gem of a book. This is definitely a character story (there is some plot, but not much), so this won't be for everyone, but I really enjoyed it. The author has such a distinct writing style; past and present intermingle in a truly satisfying, and in this case, haunting, way. I think that the way the author treated James's autism was respectful and well-informed; it didn't rely on negative stereotypes yet didn't try to claim that being autistic is not a disability. As someone with autism myself, this was important to me. I also loved the diversity of the characters and how flawed everyone was -- yet you still wanted the best for them. I think my only criticism is that there was a bit too much focus on bodily functions (periods, feces, etc.) at times, which I found to be slightly off-putting and unnecessary to the narrative/characterization. Overall, however, I'm really looking forward to seeing this book out in the world!