I picked up Summer Island expecting another emotionally charged Kristin Hannah novel, and while it didn't wreck me like The Nightingale did, it still left me with that familiar ache in my chest. The story follows Nora, a radio personality who abandoned her family years ago, and her daughter Ruby who's built walls around her heart.

What struck me most was how real the mother-daughter tension felt. There's a scene where Ruby reluctantly makes coffee for Nora - the way Hannah describes that simple act overflowing with unspoken resentment had me pausing to catch my breath. I've been there, making small gestures that carry oceans of meaning.

The Pacific Northwest setting becomes its own character - I could practically smell the saltwater and feel the island mist. When Ruby revisits childhood spots with her old flame Eric, Hannah's descriptions made me nostalgic for places I've never been.

Is this Hannah's strongest work? Probably not. Some relationships wrap up too neatly (looking at you, Dean and Rose), and the pacing drags in places. But when it hits - like during Eric's heartbreaking cancer storyline - it hits hard. I found myself crying in unexpected moments, like when Ruby finally understands why her mother left.

This isn't just a beach read despite the title. It's about how love persists through abandonment, how forgiveness isn't linear, and how we're all just trying to be seen by those who matter most. Keep tissues handy - especially for Eric's letters to Charlie.