Growing up on a Virginia farm that’s been part of their father’s family for generations, the seven Shaw children are perhaps closer than those of other siblings. Their mother has suffered from depression for as long as they’ve known her (though, given that this is the 1920s, they wouldn’t have the diagnostic language to describe her condition), and consequently they’ve come to rely on one another.

Particularly after their mother dies --- though whether by suicide or an accidental sleeping pill overdose is a debate that will rage among the children for decades --- oldest daughter Wendy becomes the de facto caretaker for the family, including not only her six younger siblings but also their father for the rest of his life.

"CHORUS reminds us of the length of life and its complexity, of the ways in which family relationships both change continually and, at their heart, remain steadfastly the same."

The untimely death of their mother is one of the defining moments of the siblings’ collective and individual life stories. The other is the unexpected pregnancy of one of the Shaw daughters when she’s still a young teenager. Together, these two events --- and the grief, confusion and self-doubt surrounding both of them, for everyone involved --- shape and define the choices they make for the next several decades.
 
Rebecca Kauffman, whose debut ANOTHER PLACE YOU’VE NEVER BEEN was longlisted for the Center for Fiction’s First Novel Prize, structures her narrative with a creative and emotionally affecting chronology. We see the siblings as children, young adults and, in the long closing chapter, middle-aged adults gathering to celebrate Christmas. We even catch glimpses of the Shaw parents before they were parents, including a heartbreaking glimpse of their mother during what was perhaps the happiest interlude of her life. Chapters move forward and backward in time, from 1903 all the way to 1959. Given that timeline, it’s inevitable that some of the forces acting on the family are external --- such as World War II, which substantially affects the lives of more than one character.
 
Some chapters are longer and more episodic; others are short vignettes of as few as two pages. But each is well crafted and offers a glimpse of a moment, a revelation or an interaction that enriches and expands our understanding of this family that is both stunningly ordinary and shockingly extraordinary.
 
At the end of the book, middle child Jack, who has achieved a sort of equilibrium after years of battling alcohol addiction, gazes out over the peaceful hills near his family’s farm, considering how his family might be viewed by the outside world: “Even just one family, God help us, even just one,” he thinks, “is so much, it is so much.” CHORUS reminds us of the length of life and its complexity, of the ways in which family relationships both change continually and, at their heart, remain steadfastly the same.