A young woman searches for the sister who vanished 20 years earlier in Henry's magical novel. In the swinging London of 1960, Hazel Linden is working in a store selling rare books, about to start a new job at Sotheby's auction house and contentedly cohabiting with a hunky professor with "wind-whipped black hair" and family money. Then, on her last day working at the store, she opens a mysterious package that brings her back to her adolescence. Inside is the manuscript of a children's novel titled Whisperwood and the River of Stars, which echoes much more closely than coincidence would permit the enchanted land she invented years earlier and the stories she told about it as a 14-year-old to her 5-year-old sister, Flora, when the two of them were evacuated from London during the Blitz. During the time the two of them were living with motherly Bridie Aberdeen and her artistic son, Harry, outside of Oxford, Flora disappeared one day, leaving her beloved teddy bear by the River Thames and leaving the police to conclude that she had drowned, though her body was never recovered. Hazel, who has always blamed herself for Flora's disappearance because she was off canoodling with Harry when it happened, and who has never given up hope of finding her again, is inspired to redouble her efforts, which lead her both to the book's author on Cape Cod and into her past, where she reconnects with Bridie and, more life-changingly, with Harry as well as with a journalist who has been researching the stories of lost evacuees. Henry, who has a clear affection for almost all of her characters, with the exception of a couple of baddies, sets them in a lush, comforting, and often pagan-influenced world where telling and listening to stories has remarkable transformative effects. An enchanting tribute to the power of storytelling. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Hazel's future in 1960 London is bright. She's looking forward to a romantic vacation with her maybe-soon fiancé, Barnaby, and starting a dream job at Sotheby's. But on her last day of work at a rare-book shop, a parcel arrives that brings her past crashing back--an American fairy tale called Whisperwood, about the same secret world Hazel created two decades earlier for her younger sister, Flora. Hazel's stories were a balm during their WWII evacuation, but she put that world behind her after Flora presumably drowned in the Thames all those years ago. Since nobody else knew about Whisperwood, perhaps Flora is alive after all. Uncovering this mystery would mean confronting guilt from Hazel's past and possibly risking the future she was sure she wanted. Henry brings the same sweet energy as she did to Once upon a Wardrobe (2021), celebrating the power of stories and the strength of sisterly love. This dual-time-line narrative is rounded out with a strong sense of place, endearing characters, and unexpected revelations.

In this affecting entry from Henry (Once upon a Wardrobe), a woman stumbles onto a lead in the decades-old cold case of her sister's disappearance. It's 1960, and Hazel Linden is astonished when the bookstore she works at is shipped a volume entitled Whisperwood, which depicts a fantasy realm Hazel dreamed up as a teenager and shared only with her younger sister. Twenty years ago, 14-year-old Hazel and five-year-old Flora were evacuated from London during WWII and took refuge in the idyllic Oxford countryside with Bridie Aberdeen and her teenage son, Harry. There, Hazel told Flora stories about Whisperwood, a make-believe world where the two could seek comfort. Months into their evacuation, Flora disappeared and was presumed drowned in the River Thames. Back in the novel's present, Hazel, still haunted by her sister's disappearance, embarks on a faith-fueled, sometimes-reckless quest to discover if her sister might still be alive, one that involves tracking down the American author of the book and visiting Bridie and Harry for the first time since Flora's disappearance. Though framed by a mystery, Henry's offering shines most in its exploration of the ways relationships grow and adapt to time and trauma, making for a poignant meditation on the bonds of sisterhood. This captivates. (May)