When her son, Ray, is older, he and his pregnant lover run away from Ursa and the control she expends over the women and children of her flock.
Her gift comes to her suddenly, and as she strengthens it, she gains a following of women who are pulled to her magnetism, her cult-like figure. When she feels a certain tingling, she knows she is ready to reenter the years of her life, the past that the rest of us feel is solidly behind us. For Ursa time is tangible, something with edges, something to be pulled and entered. Time, in this novel, is a slippery thing, both in the writing, and in the plot. As previously recommended: Another Northern California novel, different than the gray, tech-centric San Francisco works of today-this one covers a lot of ground, starting with the gritty hippie years, conjuring the grainy nostalgia paired with an undercurrent of violence that those years held, spanning forward to the 80s, back again to the late 50s.
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