Hidden River, by Sara Lippmann

The protagonist, Cassandra “Cass” Trout, lives in early 2000s Center City, but in her teen years, inhabits areas just outside the city limits, including neighborhoods like Wynnewood, Merion, and Bala Cynwyd. The story, told from Cass’s perspective, flips back and forth to timelines 20 years apart.

Cass hasn’t spoken with her childhood best friend Sally since Len, Sally’s father, passed away at the age of 51, running along the Schuylkill—something Cass does nearly every day. While Cass toils away working in retail on Rittenhouse Square, Sally is living in London, and apparently, planning a wedding. When the adult Cass receives the invitation in the mail, she’s forced to reckon with the events of her past.

Cass is preyed on as a teenager in a way that affects her still in her mid-30s. The death of her abuser stalls her development, causing her to drop out of college. The healing the reader sees for Cass is minimal, but meaningful. Each of Hidden River’s characters face a similar struggle, no matter their age, with feelings of shame, grief, and inadequacy.

A lot goes unsaid in this book, and also unresolved. True to its title, Hidden River is about the ways the traumas we don’t speak about inform our decisions, and subsequently, life’s trajectory.

Cass is impulsive, and as she acts out in inexplicable ways, her choices keep the narrative moving forward. She goes from having no phone, to a flip phone and then an iPhone in a short amount of time. She seems stuck for most of the novel, until she is suddenly propelled forward into the proper century.

I was invested in Cass’s story from the very start, not just because we grew up in the same area, but because of the character’s relatability. I found myself thinking about the book when I wasn’t reading it. It made me recall my promise to myself, as a young person, to never forget how hard it is to be young, especially to be a teenager. Hidden River drove that home for me, illustrating all the ways in which life and friendship can change.

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