Elizabeth Hartley Winthrop takes a vow of silence in December

The author tip-toes around the notion of something all humans share — a crisis of being (talking, sound, words) versus the threat of nonbeing (silence, death).

Elizabeth Hartley Winthrop’s debut novel Fireworks began as a series of short stories about an obsession with “nonstories.” Aside from protagonist Hollis Clayton’s ponderings on the “sadness” of a grown man dropping an ice cream cone on the ground, and the “mystery” of animals finding shelter in the rain, not much happens. There are observations of true poetic beauty, over which looms a shadow of genuine pathos (Hollis’ wife leaves him after the accidental death of their 8-year-old son). But ultimately, Fireworks feels over-padded with insignificance.

The premise of Winthrop’s second novel, December, suggests she’s finally found a story worthy of a novel. By the time we meet Isabelle Carter, the 11-year-old hasn’t said a word in nine months. She innocently began a streak of speechlessness that spilled over into the next day and then the next. Eventually, Isabelle becomes paralyzed by the fear of losing something if she speaks.

Ruth and Wilson, her bourgeois bohemian parents living in Manhattan’s Upper East Side, aren’t used to such obstacles. Research hasn’t provided an answer. Several therapists say Isabelle is a lost cause. The headmaster of her private all-girls school, who’s allowed Isabelle to work from home, says if she doesn’t start talking by the end of the Christmas break, she can’t come back.