Imagine that you gain access to a device that allows you to revisit, via video, every moment of your life, good and bad, transformative and mundane. A device that allows you to return to past experiences with living or dead loved ones: both treasured encounters and those so painful it might be best to erase them from your mind. Would such technology be a gift or something more damaging than rewarding?

This question lies at the heart of Michael Paul Kozlowsky’s engrossing and inventive novel, in which the main character, Sean Whittlesea, wins such a device in an unsettling corporate competition. (More on that soon.) The technology brings Sean back to some of his happiest moments, such as when he met his beloved wife, Gwen. But it also draws him closer to darker moments, the worst of these being Gwen’s murder, which he witnessed but forgot: seemingly the result of retrograde amnesia, due to a blow to the head he received during the incident. Understandably, Sean dreads returning to the scene of the crime, even though this promises to reveal exactly what happened, and who was responsible for Gwen’s death.

This haunting young-adult novel weaves together two mysteries: an engrossing whodunnit and also the enigma posed by the young woman who could play a role in solving it: Maggie Warshauer, a budding scientist and keen observer of the natural world.

Maggie lives on a cramped and run-down houseboat with her father, Drew, who manages the marina where the boat is docked. Although Drew clearly loves Maggie, his struggles with alcoholism leave him unable to be fully present for her. So does his inability to let go of his relationship with his ex-wife (“my so-called mother,” in Maggie’s words). He writes to her regularly, begging her to come back to him and Maggie. But without fail, the ex returns the letters to him, apparently unread. Drew’s limitations as a parent push Maggie into the role of caring for herself, and often, for him as well.

Although we’re long past the Victorian era, motherhood is still romanticized and idealized in much of the popular culture, and the myth that it’s a “sweet vocation,” and never anything more fraught or complicated, has persisted to a frustrating degree. Michelle Ross’s unflinching and unsparing new book offers a welcome corrective to this myth, tearing it apart and devouring it, story by perceptive story. The honesty of the tales is as refreshing as it is unsettling.

In this moving and perceptive collection of linked stories, characters are at uncertain and unsettled times of their lives–perhaps, in an unsatisfying relationship or situation that they can’t quite bring themselves to leave, or in a liminal space between their life as it is (or was) and what it might potentially be. Although the characters rarely find clear answers or resolutions, they make profound discoveries about themselves, and about life.

What might be gained, or lost, by diving into the wreckage of one’s past? And what might one learn about herself, and those closest to her, in the process? This perceptive and darkly funny novel takes up these questions in multiple ways, conveying the dangers and possibilities of such a venture.

This affecting story collection takes an unflinching look at the lives of characters–Indigenous people in Oklahoma–who are all too familiar with difficulty and yet try to keep going, even in the face of uncertainty. Together, the stories create a moving portrait of resilience.