Y

A baby is abandoned by her teenage mother in front of the YMCA on Vancouver Island. The child is fostered by a succession of well-meaning but unsuitable parents, who name her Shandi, then Samantha, then Shannon. In alternating chapters - forming the shape of a Y, one narrative strand happening after the abandonment, and one leading up to it - we follow two stories. One is Shannon's journey from birth to the age of 17, when she resolves to find out about her past; the other is that of her mother, Yula.

Although Shannon narrates Y in the first person, she is also a floating narrator, taking us into the thoughts and histories of each character. This is an unusual style, and it works beautifully, engrossing the reader right from the first page. The prose, too, is beautiful: careful and evocative, drawing the reader vividly into Shannon's world.

Y is the sort of novel that you pick up, just to read a quick chapter, and then break out of the narrative daze hours later to a darkened room and a growling stomach. It raises questions about what it means to belong, to have history, to have family. It's a book that gets under the skin and stays there.