Book Review: Absence by Issa Quincy

Absence is one of those books that sneaks up on you. You start reading thinking it’ll be a slow, quiet story—and it is—but somewhere along the way, it settles under your skin and stays there. Issa Quincy doesn’t write with fireworks. They write with small, honest moments that carry surprising weight. The story follows Mina, a translator who returns to her childhood home to take care of her distant, ailing father. What she finds is not just a man she barely knows anymore, but a house heavy with silence and old wounds. Slowly, as she goes through the routines of caregiving, she starts to uncover pieces of a family history she never fully understood. Letters. Photographs. Conversations that don’t say what they mean. There’s no big twist, no dramatic confrontation. Just a slow unraveling of memory, grief, and the emotional distance between people who are technically “family” but feel like strangers. It’s about what we don’t say, what we lose when we leave, and the spaces we try to fill with work, with routine, with translation—both literal and emotional. What I loved most about Absence is the atmosphere. The writing is delicate and poetic without being showy. You can feel the sea air, the quiet hum of a house at night, the awkward pauses in every conversation. It’s incredibly immersive, but not in a flashy way—it’s more like sitting in a room you used to know, realizing it’s both familiar and foreign at the same time. Mina is a beautifully drawn character—flawed, unsure, sometimes cold, sometimes soft—but always real. Her relationship with her father is complicated, and Quincy doesn’t force it into a neat resolution. That choice makes the story feel more honest, and a little more haunting. That said, if you’re looking for a fast-paced read or a clear-cut ending, this probably isn’t your book. Absence takes its time. It trusts the reader to sit in the quiet with it—and that’s where it shines. If you enjoy introspective, beautifully written books about family, memory, and all the things we can’t quite say out loud, give Absence a try. It’s not loud or flashy, but it stays with you. Verdict: Thoughtful, emotional, and quietly powerful.