Me, the Missing, and the Dead (review)

Five years after his father disappeared, Lucas Swain has turned him into an icon of sorts, idolizing his stylish demeanor, wearing his clothes, and refusing to believe that he might have been the type of man who simply walked out on his family. A chance encounter with an urn of ashes left in a taxicab sets Lucas on a quest that ends with his coming to terms with the fact that he may have been wrong to think so highly of his dad. The urn in question contains Violet Park, a woman of whom he has never heard, but who played a pivotal role in his father's disappearance and who seems to be insistent on getting her story told to Lucas from beyond the grave. With gentle proddings—a sense of contentment here, a nagging unrest there—she nudges Lucas toward clues that reveal her own final wishes and cause him to ask questions of his father's best friend that help him face who his father really was. Lucas' narration makes Violet's mystical presence seem perfectly reasonable, rather than a timely coincidence appearing just as a sixteen-year-old boy is finally ready to accept unpleasant truths about a cherished fantasy; the story is handily plotted to keep a level of suspense going through a fair bit of repetitive (and thus entirely credible) introspection. Lucas's hard-won insights about the constellation of relationships that constitute his family have a level of depth and wisdom beyond the norm of this genre; likewise his own relationship with a new girlfriend offers opportunities for epiphanies and emotional growth at a time when both need a fresh perspective. Missing parents with grieving kids may be overworked ground in YA fiction, but Valentine harvests an impressive yield of insight in this debut novel.