REBECCA DINERSTEIN KNIGHT — HEX

I had the pleasure of sharing an apartment on Union Street in Brooklyn — one of the warmest homes of my life — with Mrs. Dinerstein Knight and her husband, a longtime friend. I admire her writing in ways that I don’t know if I’ve been able to adequately express to her (though I will continue to try —she can expect a letter with a Belgian postmark). 

Hex has the kind of narrative voice that speaks to me — live and direct, with all the quirks and contradictions of a living being. I find more risk-taking in Hex than in Mrs. Knight’s previous work: plot twists, philosophical questions left hanging, high-wire changes in tone and subject; yet all these effects find cohesion in the voice of the protagonist, Nell, a disgraced scientist growing poisonous plants. This is not a breezy story — someone’s going to get hurt, not just heartbroken — and yet the plot has all the effortless elegance of Cary Grant comedy. It floats and sails. And the sentences are worth savoring. 

I got lost in this novel in a country new to me; it made me nostalgic for New York City, not just in general ways but in personal and specific ways; it made me laugh, stayed more or less in my hands while I puttered around a few days of quarantining, and made me excited for what Mrs. Dinerstein Knight comes up with next. This book should be at your local bookstore; I urge you to support them and buy it. Or buy it here.