Gina Frangello's novel, the searing story of identical twins Kendra and Kirby Braun, is bittersweet, compassionate, vulnerable, and honest. Kirby is the narrator, but as she notes in the letter that opens the story, "Here is [...] my rewrite of your case study: our version." The "you" she addresses throughout the tale is Dr. Susan Friedland, who has counseled both Kirby and her father Henry; the duplicity of "our version" refers to the shared experiences of Kirby and Kendra.

What is striking about this story is Frangello's willingness to allow uncertainty to thicken and complicate the novel, so that the reader constantly feels suspense, but isn't guaranteed a resolution. The fact is that there are few shared experiences between the Braun twins; their memories differ so strikingly that Kendra, who believes her father drunkenly accosted her sister when they were thirteen, designs her rebellious adolescence around a furious defense of Kirby, who, in turn, has no recollection of being attacked.

The story of the Brauns is wrought with violence and betrayal. Aris, Kirby's fiance (until Kendra's hospitalization serves as an initial reason to cancel the wedding Kirby dreads), claims that Kirby's "favorite thing to do is to analyze things to death," but as secrets continue to be revealed, Kirby can hardly be blamed. When Kendra, who dances for New York City Ballet, returns to her family's home outside of Chicago after a back injury, she finds Kirby in physical distress over her wedding. The twins' mother, Gail, a typically controlled and polished woman, is weeping; finally, Henry confesses that he has AIDS. Frangello handles this well by refusing to sensationalize it; the disease does not override the story upon its introduction . When Kirby does spend time on the Internet trying to learn about Henry's illness, the writing loses some of its punch and brilliance.

There are so many conflicts embedded in the story that it is difficult to focus on those which are most central. There are Kendra and Kirby's conflicting memories of their father; there is Otto, a man who was first Kirby's boyfriend, until he fell in love with (and ultimately proposed to) Kendra. There is Kendra's affair with Henry's colleague Michael Kelsey, whose wife Leigh had an affair with Henry; additionally, Leigh is a woman on whom Kirby secretly focuses as she struggles to acclimate to her recently understood lesbianism. Furthermore, Kendra's affair with Michael Kelsey is mainly comprised of his sadistic sexual exercises, which are gratuitous in terms of how much time they are allotted on the page. Frangello almost seems to sense when Kirby says, "it takes a lot more than some duct tape and a pot of boiling water to shock a with-it individual." There is a hint of apology here, it seems, for the places where the novel becomes less compelling.

The writing ranges from beautiful, when Kirby gazes longingly at Leigh Kelsey, to blunt and reduced, when describing Kendra and Michael's relationship, to calculated and precise and cool, when the perspective belongs to Kendra. Frangello leaves her novel filled with ambiguities Ð about abuse, culpability, and the clarity of memory. Kirby's story Ð which is a defense, a plea, and a confession Ð is moving, smart, and wonderfully told.