Sundress Reads: Review of A Sister Ago

Caitlin Buhr’s A Sister Ago (Atmosphere Press, 2024) is a heartfelt exploration of familial bonds and the enduring scars of grief. The novel tells the story of Christine, who is grappling with the loss of her little sister, Rachel, to a drug overdose. Buhr crafts a narrative that is as much about the pain of loss as it is about the complicated beauty of sisterhood, the meaning of death, and the pursuit of healing. 

The story unfolds in a non-linear fashion, shifting between childhood memories and adulthood from the perspective of both sisters, including the aftermath of Rachel’s death. This novel is full of twists and turns, maintaining suspense by unraveling multiple mysteries: the extent of Rachel’s addiction, the motivations of Walter—Christine’s unethical therapist, the secrets Christine uncovers about Rachel’s relationships, and ultimately, the emotional truths Christine must face about herself. Buhr’s pacing ensures that each revelation lands with emotional weight while allowing the story’s deeper philosophical undertones to resonate. 

Through the remembering of tense encounters, especially as Rachel’s addiction progresses throughout their childhood, it becomes clear how Christine’s own life is influenced by her sister’s addiction and subsequent passing. Buhr writes: “She was overwhelmed with guilt… she felt like ‘a shitty sister from the start,’ but especially in the last years of Rachel’s life. She should have never stopped reaching out to Rachel, but she had” (171). Often, Christine reflects on the helplessness that haunts her. She is plagued by the isolating nature of grief:

“That was the other recitation of the casual observer, the acquaintance or friend of the grieving person. I can’t imagine losing my sister, my child, my best friend. For God’s sake, imagine it, the grieving person wants to howl. Imagine it so that I’m not alone in this pain!” (Buhr 107)

As the story unfolds, meaningful memories resurface for Christine, giving readers the precise context needed to experience the processing of her grief. We slowly discover and learn more and more the anatomy of their relationship. By the end, we have a thorough understanding of the specific impact Rachel’s passing had on Christine and come to understand how the non-linear narrative mirrors the fragmented nature of grief itself, where memories intrude unbidden, refusing to adhere to a neat timeline. 

The most refreshing part of this novel is the discussion on Rachel’s addiction. Her struggles are presented with nuance and compassion, preserving Rachel’s individuality and portraying a life shaped by coping with untreated mental illness. This realization comes to light when we shift to Rachel’s perspective:

“The problem wasn’t her surroundings, it was her. Why was she always gritting her teeth? Why were her memories of going down a slide, opening gifts, running through a sprinkler, dampened by something she couldn’t identify?” (Buhr 91)

Notably, Buhr refuses to paint Rachel’s actions as moral failings. Additionally, despite the horrific nature of Rachel’s passing, death is treated with incredible tenderness and care for the deceased and for those who experience the fallout. 

Through the process, Buhr tackles the randomness and inevitability of death, challenging the reader to consider a philosophy that intertwines life and death as natural cohabitants. Christine reflects, “Death is not a message from the universe. It just is. You are and then you aren’t. Rachel had been, had existed, and nothing could possibly ever change that. She was Rachel, and then she was a violet at home in the earth, said [Pablo] Neruda” (Buhr 256). An underlying theme of professional ethics, explored through Christine’s confrontation with her therapist, Walter, who breached confidentiality and crossed several professional boundaries, contributes in surprising ways to Rachel’s past. His unethical actions not only catalyze Christine’s growing awareness of the systems that failed Rachel, but also highlight the broader question of accountability in care professions.  

Despite its heavy themes, A Sister Ago offers moments of levity and comfort, especially through Christine’s tentative friendship with Keji, a fellow survivor of loss brought into Christine’s life under grim circumstances. Their interactions provide a refreshing counterbalance to Christine’s solitary introspection and demonstrate the power of shared grief to forge unexpected connections.  

The prose is beautifully poetic, often comforting even as it unearths painful truths. The novel’s emotional depth is enhanced by the realistic portrayal of the sisters’ dynamic, showcasing both the joys and the fractures that defined their relationship. Buhr’s skill lies in her ability to balance heartache with a sense of closure, ensuring that while not every question is answered, the story feels complete. 

This is a novel that lingers. As a reader, I came away from this piece with a profound appreciation for Christine and Rachel’s bond—one marked by love, rivalry, and regret, mirroring real-life sister dynamics. While loss may never fully be overcome, it can be integrated into the tapestry of one’s life with grace and compassion. This novel holds nuance and difficult topics with gentle hands, making my heart ache a bit, but as it would with satisfaction.

A Sister Ago is available from Atmosphere Press

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Claire Melanie Svec is a writer, poet, and singer-songwriter whose work is primarily focused on social dynamics, morality, and uncovering both the beauty and ugliness in mental health struggles. She published a short story piece that has won the first-place prize in fiction for The Ear Literary Magazine‘s Linda Purdy Memorial Prize. In addition to her editorial internship with Sundress Publications, she is a fiction reader for West Trade Review. Progress on her upcoming work, projects, and adventures during her year-long stay in Paris can be found on her Instagram @_clairedavila.