As a history lesson about the Armenian genocide in the early
1900s, this novel is terrific. The love
story, on the other hand, and the discovery of family secrets generations later
are not particularly powerful storylines nor are they all that original. Still, a million and a half people were
killed, and that story deserves to be told, even in fiction. Elizabeth Endicott is a privileged Bostonian
who accompanies her father to a hospital in Aleppo, Syria, to administer to the
sick and wounded deportees. Elizabeth
sees way more death and suffering than she could have ever imagined and even invites
a displaced woman and child to live in the American compound. Elizabeth falls in love with an Armenian
engineer, and it’s obvious that these two are the grandparents of the
narrator. This knowledge from the outset
kills any suspense that we might have about their survival, but the fate of the
Armenian’s first wife is somewhat of a surprise, although ultimately not a
pleasant one. Another less compelling
plotline involves the possible destruction of some photographic plates that
document the horrific suffering of the Armenians. On the plus side, this novel is not as dark
as it could be, which is not to say that the author glosses over the massacre
of the Armenians in any way. He gets his
point across quite effectively and charms us with the love story to offset the
bleak tragedy that has brought the two lovers together. The title is a mystery to me. Yes, there is one scene where the women are
building a sandcastle, but this scene is not central to the plot, and I have to
think the author has some kind of metaphor in mind. I think of sandcastles as having a fleeting
existence, but the love story here is lasting, as is the impact of the genocide
on the Armenian survivors.
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