I knew, before reading the blurb or thumbing through the pages, that I'd be leaving the library with this book. Anything on twins interests me. My dad is an identical twin and with the phenomenon often skipping generations, there is a slight increase in probability that I may have twins myself. I even made a set of twins my central characters in my final year creative writing project. And as someone who has often felt something of an outsider, I think I would have loved being a twin. But as Saskia Sarginson tells us in her debut novel The Twins, there too can be a need to escape all of that shared history.

It took me a few chapters to get into the book, even though it is of a similar style to the type of books I tend to opt for. I was determined to stick with it and remain wholeheartedly glad I did. By the time I was a third of the way through, I had slipped into a whole other world completely. It then took me a matter of hours to read the rest, scampering through the pages like a wild thing myself.

The book follows Viola and Isolte, identical twins born to an unsteady mother, Rose, who can never quite keep two feet firmly in the real world. For most of their early childhood, the three live in a commune in Wales, before moving to a forest in Suffolk where Viola and Isolte happen across another set of identical twins, boys this time. John and Michael are raw and wild, often suffering beatings from their father and skipping school. The two sets of twins quickly become intertwined and spend their hazy days together. 

The novel jumps between Viola's point of view and then, on Isolte-driven chapters, it enters the third person narrative. This doesn't distance the reader from Isolte; at least, it didn't distance her from me as I felt closer to Isolte than I ever did to Viola. I thought it was clever the way the novel also jumped between past and present, slowly letting the reader in to the events that sought to separate the sisters. Clearly a carefully thought out plot, that I enjoyed from cover to cover. 

I feel hesitant to give too much of the plot away, since it was such a enjoyable read, but I will say that although some predictability exists, the characterisation is so strong you almost don't mind being able to second guess some elements. Isolte's boyfriend was a welcome addition (and someone I quite fell in love with too!)

As is custom with my book reviews, largely because of my overwhelming to keep and hoard everything, I try and pick a quote that I particularly enjoyed. Again, I could have picked many as Sarginson's style is one that I find particularly favourable. Nevertheless, I narrowed it down to this which I admit makes little sense alone, but has great substance in the context of the novel. I also go crazy for alliteration, so this quote soothes me on several levels.

"The sea swallows things, she thinks, and the sea returns them."

(And if you ever needed written confirmation that I am, in fact, of the geekish nature, I would refer you to that there sentence! Soothes me.. what was I thinking!)

Not my usual novel, I'll admit that straight away. Based heavily in the Hasidic community - a way of life I have next to no knowledge of - this book was certainly illuminating. It was also very complex; the plot, the religious intonations, it all made for a challenging, rather than a passive, read.

I hunger for words, for literature I can commit to mind and memory, so when faced with a language I have never previously been exposed to, I quickly encountered cessations in my reading. Whilst the authenticity of the novel cannot ever be denied, for me, I found the process too halting to be enjoyable. The characters I liked, especially young Josef and his tortured life from childhood through to adulthood. All the women I found to be real, despite having few commonalities to the way I live my own life.

Starting with Zalman, the novel follows his life with Hannah (his wife), his children and the daughter he seemingly adopts as his own. Mila, a Jew that Zalman saves after her parents perish, quickly befriends Zalman's eldest daughter Atara but as they mature it is clear they are destined for different paths. Atara begins to question her religion in ways that Mila cannot understand, whilst Mila hopes for marriage and is happy to become betrothed to young Josef, a devoted studier of the Torah. Together they hope to have their own flourishing family, as Hannah and Zalman did before them. Though Mila tries hard - including enduring courses of fertility treatment - it turns out to be Josef who cannot conceive. Since it is an offence for a man to be tested for fertility as the act is "akin to murder", Josef is not medically diagnosed until it is too late; Mila seeks conception with another man but claims that God was on her lips as it happened.

A daughter - Rachel, named after Mila's mother - is born and Josef battles within himself to inform the rabbi of Rachels' true heritage. As the knowledge continues to haunt Josef, he begins fasting and becomes increasingly unwell. Much of the story follows Mila and Josef, though I longed more to hear of Atara, the daughter of Zalman who is destined to be forgotten. She is weaved back into the story when Judith, Mila's grandaughter, is set to marry one of Zalman's grandsons. Josef worries about the union and wrestles whether to tell Zalman the truth.

The book climaxes in several ways; reunions occur, death makes an entrance and lives are lived. I think that perhaps my ignorance, or simply my lack of exposure to this religious community largely impeded my enjoyment of the novel. The literary construction is lovely; the chapters, the way the book is broken up, is well thought out. Nevertheless, I did struggle at times to enjoy the book despite how intelligent the text truly is.