Jillian Cantor, the bestselling author of BEAUTIFUL LITTLE FOOLS and THE FICTION WRITER, delivers the quintessential beach read with THE MAY HOUSE.

“Once upon a time,” Grandma Vera begins, “there were three sisters….” Since 1985, Julia, Emily and Nora have been coming to their grandmother’s house in Coronado, California, for one week each May. Raised by their single father following their mother’s death at Nora’s birth, the siblings have grown into their own unique personalities, bolstered by their grandmother’s love, which she frames through the metaphor of a s’more. 

Eldest sister Julia is type-A personified: serious, diligent and responsible, the marshmallows that glue the delightful dessert together. Middle sister Emily is cynical and artsy, bitter but sweet, the chocolate that sets off the dish’s other ingredients. And sweet, tiny Nora, the only one who holds no memories of their mother, is the family star and songbird, the graham cracker that holds the family together with her signature hugs. 

But all childhoods must come to an end, and by the time we meet the sisters in 2019, they have drifted apart. Now 46, 43 and 40, they live in totally different corners of the United States --- Julia in Maryland, Emily in Florida, and Nora in New York --- though they still manage to arrive at the beach house on the same Sunday each May.

"THE MAY HOUSE is Jillian Cantor at her best.... Tender and beautifully written, this character-driven novel is an intimate, layered celebration of the people who know us best and what it feels like to call them home."

Only this year, when Emily and Nora open the doors to their beloved bungalow, Julia is nowhere to be found. It turns out that she has been missing for three weeks. Even in their meager group chat, they have not actually spoken to Julia since their trip last year. To unravel the mystery of her absence, Emily and Nora will need to examine not just the last 12 months, but their entire lives, going all the way back to their annual excursions through the ’80s and ’90s.

As teenagers, we watch as Julia is falling for the handsome, helpful boy next door, Nate, while he is losing his mother to cancer. Around the same time, Emily is doing a dangerous dance with alcohol and marijuana, which allows her to feel at peace as she navigates her attraction to women. And Nora is following in her grandmother’s footsteps to the stage, despite her father’s warnings that an education must come first.

But curiously, at important moments in each girl’s life, Grandma Vera directs them to a special drawer in her armoire, where a stack of letters awaits their discovery. Though no one ever brings up or discusses what they find in these writings, it is obvious that they are affected negatively (except for poor Nora, who somehow misses them entirely). The letters form the first cracks in their relationships with themselves and each other. 

In later years, Julia becomes a mother herself, a terrifying prospect for the girls, as their mother died of undiagnosed eclampsia. She must learn to mother without a model --- an unmothered mother trying to understand the ins and outs of parenthood amid her career and one-sided marriage. Though each sister is paid equal attention, I found Julia’s passages to be the most poignant. For the first time ever, she is facing a test for which she cannot study, and her careful, cautious personality is starting to crack. And reuniting with Nate every year is not helping.

Navigating first loves, substance abuse, struggling careers and motherhood, Cantor paints a portrait not just of each sister, but of their family --- the mythical s’more --- as a whole. Though the leaps in time can be a bit confusing at first, she helpfully populates each vignette with important historical details that anchor the reader. (In one particularly poignant scene, Nora marvels at the Twin Towers, still standing tall and proud.) But what really solidifies the various timelines is how each sibling grows not just into herself, but also into her time period and age. 

From first kisses to sex, parenthood and menopause, it’s all there. Although they are wildly different at first glance, careful readers will be able to spot the traits that tie the women together in how they think, love and make decisions. The drama is timely but never gratuitous, and Cantor navigates all of life’s major milestones with aplomb, inviting us into her characters’ lives with grace and candor. 

Meanwhile, in the present day, as Emily and Nora start to unpack Julia’s absence, they begin to realize how little they know about her and how much they have allowed themselves to stray from one another. They may have kept their promise to Grandma Vera to return each year, but they have forgotten to return to themselves. It is only through a painful reckoning with their pasts and each other that they will be able to find the truth: people can be home too.

THE MAY HOUSE is Jillian Cantor at her best. Her flashback scenes are meticulously grounded in historical fact, the mystery of Julia’s absence is suspenseful and tense, and binding it all together is her signature compassion and emotional resonance. Even when the concerns they face are familiar (grief, substance abuse, career backslides), Cantor makes them feel unique and real by allowing each sister to act entirely as herself. Better yet is that we get to live and grow with them over three decades, seeing their transformations in real time --- and how they are unintentionally hurting each other. 

By pairing her bighearted premise with propulsive flips through time, Cantor crafts a decades-old mystery that has long-lasting repercussions, turning this otherwise “safe” read into something far more compelling. Her depictions of sisterhood are fully realized and fleshed out, yet still deeply intimate and personal. It’s perfect for book club members, who will delight in finding “their” sister on the page. 

Tender and beautifully written, this character-driven novel is an intimate, layered celebration of the people who know us best and what it feels like to call them home.