Fireweed follows Jenny, a young Canadian woman whose husband is often gone for weeks at a time for work. In her spare time between infrequent work shifts, Jenny begins speaking a bit to Rachelle, the only First Nations Woman in the neighborhood. Just as the two women begin to strike up a relationship, Rachelle vanishes, and Jenny is determined to find out what happened.

This book felt more like a study of Jenny as a person than anything else. I don't think I liked Jenny, but I found her an interesting and fairly well-written character, and that's what sucked me into this book. She's a naive and ignorant white woman who's spent her whole life in the industrial town of Prince George. From the very beginning, the book is very upfront with how everyone in the town views First Nations people with Jenny's friends openly disparaging Rachelle. The book is written in first person, so we get to see everything Jenny's thinking and feeling while she goes on her journey. Her naïveté, combined with a healthy dose of crime TV, makes her overly confident in her ability to solve Rachelle's disappearance. She does some questionable things in her search for justice, but as the summary says, she really is misguided. She spends the whole book throwing herself at the mystery, and many of her assumptions about her hometown are challenged.

I also felt like the setting was very clearly described. I'm an American with only middling knowledge of Canada, so I wasn't familiar with Prince George at all before reading Fireweed. Haddad does a good job setting the scene with all the talk of the industry and environment, as well as the descriptions of all the characters. When I saw Haddad's bio at the end of the book and saw she'd written extensively about Prince George, the incredibly detailed description made a lot of sense. Also, as someone who has family in a small town in Missouri with that "white trash" air wafting around, the vibe of the setting and the people who lived there felt distantly familiar.

The ending has me feeling a little conflicted. Everything ties up quite neatly, but Jenny has just gone right back to where she was when the novel started. I can see it as an allegory for how women both Native and white continue to go missing, and nothing truly gets done to stop more women from going missing, just like how Jenny went on her journey searching for Rochelle only to return to her old life, Rachelle occasionally crossing her mind. The world keeps on spinning, unchanged. I find the ending unsatisfying, but I guess it makes sense for Jenny's character.

My main critique would be that the writing feels a little unclear at times. Sometimes something would happen, and it felt like some of the key details weren't provided until later when Jenny was reflecting on the events. Other times, Jenny comes to conclusions without providing explanation to how she reached that conclusion. It wasn't bad enough that I couldn't follow the plot, but it did leave me scratching my head every now and again.

Overall, I enjoyed Fireweed. The writing style was easy to get immersed in, and the premise was intriguing, and I never felt bored while reading this.

Rating 3.5/5, rounding up to 4

Content warnings for racism, sexism, sexual assault, mentions of domestic abuse

In Fireweed, the protagonist is a bored housewife who starts a misguided investigation into her First Nations neighbors' sudden disappearance. What starts as a well-meaning effort quickly spirals into a series of misguided actions that reveal more about the protagonist's own limitations than they do about the disappearance.

Set in 2001 in Prince George, BC, the novel offers a stark portrayal of a smaller rural working-class community. As someone who grew up in the rural prairies during that time, I found the depiction both accurate and occasionally difficult to digest. The community’s 'white trash' ethos and narrow-minded views, including prevalent racism towards First Nations people, are portrayed with a raw honesty that underscores the novel's critique of systemic issues.

One of the novel's strengths is its exploration of how women’s experiences of violence and disappearance are influenced by their class and race. The contrast in responses between the disappearance of a white woman versus that of the protagonist’s Indigenous neighbor highlights the deep-seated biases in law enforcement, media, and community reactions. The book’s portrayal of these dynamics, alongside other relationships and the mistreatment of women, underscores the systemic nature of these issues.

Ultimately, Fireweed serves more as a character study of both the protagonist and the community rather than a deep dive into the disappearance itself. The protagonist, with her naivety and sheltered perspective, can be frustrating to read. While I wished for a more in-depth exploration of the disappearances and the accompanying injustices, the novel’s focus on the status quo—where women continue to go missing with little change—resonates as a poignant commentary.

Thank you very much to NetGalley and Astra Publishing House for providing me with an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.

The writing in this book is hauntingly melancholic as it follows a frustratingly naïve protagonist. Watching Jenny slowly descend into the realization that she is dealing with a broken system is heartbreaking and unnerving. I really enjoyed the ongoing motif of Fireweed, a plant that symbolizes new beginnings, always present alongside Jenny's continuous growth as she learns--or rather unlearns--the racist assumptions that have been embedded throughout her life. I wish we had some more time with Rachelle's character though, maybe even a chapter or two from her perspective, though I guess the point of her limited appearance was so the reader felt as isolated from the character as Jenny did. Overall, a really moving story and encapsulates the prevalent issue of missing and murdered Indigenous women, along with the overwhelming racism that allows this issues like this to persist.

Overall, I enjoyed this book and I think it nearly succeeded in doing what it set out to do . The unreliable narrator with flawed motivations for "investigating" the disappearance of her neighbor was a compelling perspective. The premise was bleak, but somehow Jenny's own biases - and blindness to the ways in which she was also marginalized at times - filtered some of the despair that I think the reader was supposed to feel. Rachelle's clearly not coming back, something bigger is at play, but Jenny keeps us almost optimistic that Rachelle (or Rachelle's body) will be found eventually and that the cops can be trusted to investigate the missing woman. While I feel like Haddad maintained the perfect balance for Jenny's feelings throughout the story, true to form Jenny turned a blind eye (unknowingly or not) to so many wrongs that eventually the final act was a little muffled.

Definitely an interesting experience, and I think this has the potential to be an amazing audiobook! I think a talented narrator could really nail the vibe that this book was trying to pull off.

This was a tough but amazing read. In the first part of the book, I was really cringing at the racism but Haddad did such an amazing job setting up how hypocritical it was. I thought the main character's journey was believable. She didn't do a dramatic 180 but went through very small changes. The descriptions of a rural town and the time period were so spot-on, it was a little eerie.

In "Fireweed," a white housewife named Jenny investigates the disappearance of her Indigenous neighbor Rachelle, who goes missing along with another woman. Despite her initial judgment, Jenny becomes involved in the case and questions societal perceptions of marginalized communities. The novel explores themes of privilege, bias, and the impact of our actions on others.

This book has evoked a multitude of emotions within me. I understand that it may not resonate with everyone, but it has certainly left a lasting impact on me.

Not long ago, I watched a film called Wind River, which shed light on the alarming number of Indigenous people who go missing or are found dead without anyone taking notice. This was a real eye-opener for me, and it made me appreciate the importance of stories like the one told in this book.

The characters in this book are incredibly well-developed and likable, making the story feel very realistic. The vivid descriptions of the environment further enhanced the plot, making it feel like a story that could easily happen in real life. While some parts may seem slow, they are necessary to tie the entire book together.

Overall, this book is a gripping page-turner that will leave you feeling pensive and emotional at times. It reads like a true story, drawing you in with its authenticity.

I highly recommend this book and encourage you to form your own opinion. It may be worth doing some research to understand the gravity of the issues addressed in the book. The struggles faced by the characters, such as Jenny's attempts to report Rachelle missing and being met with indifference, are sadly reflective of real-life scenarios. This book is truly remarkable and deserves to be read.

Thank you, Astra Publishing House for digital ARC copy. I am leaving this review voluntarily.

This is a good, but tough read.

It’s really hard to be in the head of our MC at times – even when she starts to be a bit of a better person, I struggled to like her. I also felt that she read much older than she was supposed to be.

The story itself is a good, if painful, one.

It’s very much about how disposable women are – and how much more disposable non-white women are. I’ll warn you, the racism is pervasive and very, very real.

I’m glad I read this one, though it made me very sad.

• ARC via Publisher

Thank you to Astra Publishing House for providing this ARC for review consideration via NetGalley. All opinions are my own.

Fireweed is the story about a woman living in an isolated area of Canada living an increasingly suffocating life. When a national search for a missing young woman converges with the protagonist’s own neighbor’s disappearance, she becomes increasingly preoccupied with investigating. The story is complicated by the fraught race relationships between the First Nation and Indigenous people and the white Canadians in the town.

The things that I think the author did very successfully is create an atmosphere of claustrophobia and frustration in the main character. There’s a sense of voiceless ness and directionless that’s really highlighted by the brand names, store names, and clutter that are in so many scenes. The author highlights a very lonely middle class existence of a woman who is internalizing her problems.

The author does a wonderful job of showing that Jenny is using her past traumas, poor relationships, yearning connection, as the fuel for her investigation. At a certain point it’s clear that her search for Rachelle is much more about herself and her own identity and self esteem than a true closeness and concern.

What I do think was a little disappointing is that this book very much uses the missing and murdered indigenous women as a scaffold for a story of personal discovery of a white woman. While that may have been the aim for the author to show how white people can co-opt movements for their own reasons, it was disappointing that the storyline ends so abruptly at the end. I just felt like two paragraphs about Jenny feeling wistful in the last chapter wasn’t a fully fleshed ending for this storyline (even if she never ends up being found or getting justice.)

Fireweed by Lauren Haddad is a captivating blend of emotion, mystery, and self-discovery. The novel follows characters caught in the complexities of grief and resilience, set against a vivid, almost poetic backdrop. Haddad's writing is evocative, painting rich emotional landscapes that draw the reader in from the start.

The strength of this book lies in its character development and the way it navigates loss and healing. The relationships feel raw and authentic, making the reader care deeply about the characters' journeys. However, some parts of the plot might feel a bit slow, as the story tends to linger in introspection. But the emotional depth compensates for the pacing, keeping you invested until the end.

Overall, Fireweed is a beautifully written novel that explores human connection, trauma, and growth with grace and nuance.

Rating: 4/5

This is a whirlwind of a story taking place in Canada, where the industry is mining and paper production from trees. Life here can be uneasy. A young couple living here and struggling to make ends meet (she works in retail, he works in the mines) is suddenly confronted with an unimaginable event: Their neighbor, a single mom who is a native, has gone missing. Her children have been left behind. But is she really missing? And, do the neighbors or police even seem concerned? The descriptions of the rugged landscape (including fireweed plants), the reports of other missing persons, and the possibility of an unreliable narrator set up a story that feels ready to combust with tension and suspense. I kept returning to this eerie place and wondering what would happen next!

So so so good! Definitely agree with the comparison to Tana French. The ending felt a bit abrupt but I was okay with it given the overall themes of the book. Thank you Netgalley for the ARC and I will definitely be following this author on Goodreads!

This a fiery and passionate novel about family, love, and the complexities of identity. It's a powerful and moving story that will stay with you long after you've finished reading.

The vivid, wild setting and the looming threat of an unreliable narrator make this a gripping read that’s tough to put down. Each page builds suspense, pulling you deeper into its mysteries.

The writing
I highlighted so many passages in this book - I must try and remember to come back to this review after the book has been released, to share my favourites with you! I found Haddad's writing style really elegant - some beautiful language and imagery, but without overburdening or purple style choices. A lot of time in this book is spent in the mundane and melancholy, and I found myself transported into these little vignettes (and not bored at all).

Haddad's writing reminded me a lot of some of my favourite works from Ottessa Mosfegh - the melancholy of My Year of Rest and Relaxation, and the unsettling and unreliable narration of Death in Her Hands. I flew through this book and did not struggle to follow or have to check things (though I did happily assume anything odd was down to unreliable narration).

The main character
Jenny is a flawed and unlikeable character, at least to me, but not a flat one. I found her wholly developed and believable, at times I pitied her and at times I wanted to shake some sense into her. I think the context of her life is well developed, and Haddad paints a picture of family, friends, and partner relationships that provide ample tinder for Jenny's behaviour and reasoning.

At times she's an unreliable narrator, with her emotional states influencing her inner thoughts and reasoning to the point where she sometimes makes wild and insensible leaps of logic. I can see how this might leave other readers a bit lost - I has interpreted these leaps as reflecting Jenny's inner turmoil, and I very much enjoyed the inclusion of these passages and felt it added a lot to Jenny's characterisation and the context for her behaviour. There are things introduced that could feel like loose threads, or red herrings, if you're reading this from a place of trying to figure out what happened to Rachelle or (view spoiler). Personally, many of the things that Jenny thought or fixed on were immediately suspect to me and so I never tried to figure out how things fit in the big picture.

Centring a white narrative
This book loosely covers the disappearance of Jenny's indigenous neighbour, and her subsequent interactions with the indigenous community as she personally investigates what happened. As other reviews have covered (and in much greater detail than I will), this includes mention of the Highway of Tears and the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls. While these real and traumatic events are featured, they are considered only from Jenny's naive and reductive perspective, and therefore not really given the weight and consideration that they might deserve.

Personally, I read this book as being a detailed but excoriating exploration of a character who exhibits white saviour, white feminist and Pretendian sentiments at various stages of the book. I could not find an interview or similar with the author to explore this in more detail, but certainly my own interpretation of this character and the book as a whole was not endorsing of Jenny's behaviour or reasoning but was instead an obvious criticism of how white women centre themselves in the narratives and experiences of non-white women.

As a white woman, I found this angle to be of personal interest to me and was anticipating a problematic character. I do think this book needs to be correctly billed - the representation of indigenous characters is reductive and flat, and I think Haddad's intentions could likely still have been achieved if she'd presented a more nuanced view. We only see these characters through Jenny's eyes, and thus with her harmful stereotypes and inner thoughts.

Conclusion

I will be careful in how I recommend this book - it is not a mystery thriller, it is an exploration of how one white woman in a small town attaches herself to her missing neighbour and inserts herself into a narrative of her own construction. That was a fascinating read, for me, and the writing made it truly enjoyable.
However, this book does take an incredibly reductive and harmful perspective, and I would not talk about it or recommend it in the context of MMIWG, own voices or first nation perspectives. I don't feel qualified to comment on the release date timings, but would agree with other reviewers who do not feel this title should be attached to the National Day for MMIWG or even part of that conversation.

Wider reading

This book does not give a good introduction or accurate reflection to themes of race, white saviourism, or non-white perspectives in Canada. I would encourage you to consume media that does, and I recommend:

Kim TallBear has a great article about the recent rise in, and history of, Pretendians (white folks claiming indian heritage, often based on dubious genetic testing).

Birdie is a beautiful and eerie novel with loosely flowing time and a narrative exploring the lives of a family of Cree women. This does include trauma and SA, but with a focus on the protagonist's journey of healing. Some beautiful imagery and language.

Monkey Beach beautiful imagery again and a vivid family portrait from Eden Robinson, a member of the Haisla and Heiltsuk First Nations. I'd recommend this if you like melancholy and magical realism, like Emily St John Mandel.

The Berry Pickers is a stunning and poignant exploration of identity, loss, and overcoming hardships and trauma.

This is a singularly engaging and suspenseful variation on an archetypal mystery form: a committed amateur sets out to get to the bottom of the apparent disappearance of a friend…when no one else in her world, even the police, seems to take the missing woman’s disappearance seriously.

The setting of ‘Fireweed’ is brilliantly original. It takes place in far-Western Canada, a wild, wooded landscape that, paradoxically, is marred by mines, factories, and rural sprawl. Jenny Hayes, the novel’s narrator and protagonist, is a smart but sparsely educated mall gift shop employee. She’s young, recently married, and longing to get pregnant.

Jenny has recently attempted to befriend her neighbor, a beautiful Native American widow with two children. There’s a substantial Indian population in the area, most of whom, as their white counterparts see them, are lazy and unworthy of their attention. Jenny and her neighbor are just working through their mutual distrust when the Native woman disappears, and her mixed-race children are taken in by social services.
Finding her friend—or at least discovering the woman’s fate—becomes Jenny’s quest. She makes slow progress in finding her friend, but does discover the depth of prejudice toward Native peoples held by the authorities and even her own friends and family.

Her quest leads her to a searing and tragic discovery about her dystopian world and its assumptions about the ‘Other’ it so disregards and dismisses.

This was such a truly tantalizing story that i can not get out of my head! Overall, this book is a gripping page-turner that will leave you feeling pensive and emotional at times. It reads like a true story, drawing you in with its authenticity.

Lauren Haddad’s *Fireweed* is an introspective novel with beautiful prose and a strong sense of place. The themes of resilience and growth are compelling, and the story captures moments of quiet poignancy.

That said, the pacing is slow, and the plot sometimes feels aimless, making it hard to stay fully engaged. The characters, while well-drawn, lack the development needed to leave a lasting impact.

*Fireweed* has its strengths in atmosphere and emotion but falls short of being truly memorable. A solid read for those who enjoy reflective, character-driven stories, but it doesn’t quite reach its full potential.