“To many, I was myth incarnate, the embodiment of a most superb legend, a fairy tale. Some considered me a monster, a mutation. To my great misfortune, I was once mistaken for an angel. To my mother, I was everything. To my father, nothing at all. To my grandmother, I was a daily reminder of loves long lost. But I knew the truth–deep down, I always did…I was just a girl.” So says, Ava Wilhelmina Lavender, “..born on a remarkably clear Seattle night on the first of March in 1944.” The issue is that Ava Wilhelmina Lavender was born with wings. If the first paragraph isn’t enough to pique your interest, then I don’t know what is.
Ava’s story and that of her mother, grandmother and great grandmother is suberbly told by Leslye Walton in her debut novel The Strange and Beautiful Sorrows of Ava Lavendar. For me to reveal any more of the story will do it a great disservice. Walton’s writing has this mysterious quality to it.
For some reason it reminds me of The Night Circus by Erin Morganstern, regardless of the fact that the stories are in no way similar. Although there’s a form of fantasy in both of them.
About love and loss, this book did make me sniffle at the end. I know I’m a softy, but, hey, that’s me.
There are certain writers that warrant you to keep an eye out for and Leslye Walton is definitely one of them.
Two Heads Together 
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