THE SISTERS

An expansive, complex tale of three sisters and the swath they cut across the world.

Scene: a New Year’s Eve party in Stockholm, where Ina Mikkola meets a young man named Hector. Ina has two sisters there, Anastasia and Evelyn, but she doesn’t want to find them, lest Hector “fall in love with Anastasia, the fun sister, the crazy sister…[and then] he would catch sight of Evelyn and then he would quickly let go of Anastasia’s hand and become transfixed by Evelyn’s eyes.” And so it goes over the 650 pages of Swedish novelist Khemiri’s latest, an ambitious epic that spans half a century and crosses oceans to find—well, never exactly happiness, since the sisters believe they’re doomed by a curse never to find it. An interlocutor throughout is a young man named Jonas, who, like the Mikkola sisters, is half Swedish and half Tunisian: He reveals himself as a purveyor of rumors about them (“their mom worked late and on weekends and wore a lot of perfume and black leather boots and always had her designer handbag full of cash”), befitting of the later role that Jonas plays—not just an observer, but in time a perhaps unreliable narrator within the narration, organized, as Jonas says, just as Khemiri’s is, in seven parts, “and each part covers a shorter and shorter period of time, from a year down to a minute.” It’s a daring concept, but Khemiri pulls it off capably, with that last minute containing an especially moving episode. The longer pieces have their longueurs, with Anastasia, drug-addled and lost, taking much of the story’s oxygen, but each part offers a tantalizing bit of a secret that the reader must pursue to the end in order to understand just how Jonas’ story intertwines with the Mikkolas’, even as their lives have over decades.

Long in the telling, but a lively portrait of familial, cultural, and amorous entanglements.