Edith, Rachel, and a lot of ‘who’ questions
The Oversoul Realm
by Candice James
New Westminster: Silver Bow Press, 2026
$18.99 / 9781774034330
Reviewed by Isabella Ranallo
*
The Oversoul Realm explores a metaphysical reality when two women’s minds converge across time and space. “She wasn’t alone in her own mind. Someone else was pressing against the veil. Someone who didn’t belong here,” the narration explains. As time goes on, the distinction between Edith and Rachel grows more blurred as the reader is invited into a poetic contemplation of the spirit world.
To be honest, I’m struggling to summarize any of my thoughts about this novel because I am battling a bunch of question marks. I went into it very excited about the dual mind aspect, but the actual execution was unfortunately rough. Although the author fosters a good sense of suspense in the opening chapters, several building blocks of the world of the novel are never provided. I’m talking basics: who, what, why, where, and when questions.
Edith and Rachel live in a coastal town—where? BC? The coast of New England? Any other coastline in the universe? Personally, I had just visited the lovely beach town of Llandudno, Wales when I picked up the book, so I was picturing that, but I severely doubt that was the author’s intention. To be honest, I still could not tell you where the book was set after having read it. I’d guess somewhere in BC, because there is mention of a totem pole and seaplanes—both of which appear in the latter half of the book. It’s ridiculous I was keeping an eye out for clues à la Sherlock Holmes in an attempt to glean something that should have been transparent from the first page.
Furthermore, I have no idea in what historical period Edith or Rachel belong. Or if they live in different ones at all. The blurb from the author’s website states that Edith lived in 1918, but in the text, Edith receives emails and mentions seaplanes. Now, I was not around in 1918, but I do have a Minor in History, which enables me to say with confidence that there was no email during World War I. Jokes aside, what am I supposed to think? Was this a grievous editorial mistake? OR was Edith recalling Rachel’s knowledge, who (probably) (maybe?) lives in the twenty-first century?? Was this a clever manifestation of the blurring of their minds? Either way, I am not confident on where they are or when they are. An end result that should not have got by not just the author, but editor, proofreader, and publishing house.
I was left with a lot of “who” questions as well. Several chapters in, reference is made to Rachel’s case files from work. What case files? What does she do for work? I’m still not sure. And that’s nothing compared to the men figures in Rachel and Edith’s lives.
One dark stormy night, a “policeman” knocks on Rachel’s door. Initially suspicious of him, she ends up letting him stay the night and develops a crush on him. However, when the narrative hops to Randy’s perspective, we learn Rachel was right to be wary. He is assuredly Up To Something. This is actually done well: it creates a strong sense of tension. Who is this guy? What’s his past and what are his plans now? Unfortunately, we never learn.
After returning from a series of chapters focused on Edith, Rachel casually mentions to the reader that she and Randy have been hooking up for the past few months, but after having seen his “worst side” (um, details, please?), she’s resolved to end things. I feel like we’ve missed a lot we probably should have seen here (instead of waxing poetical for pages on end about how a boat is floating on water). After calling Rachel a “selfish little bitch,” again something that the reader is not provided any build-up for, he disappears from the narrative completely. What was his secret? We will never know. What an utter waste of time and character.
Then, there is Thomas. Who is Thomas? I have no idea. When Edith docks her boat, she is met at the dock by the affectionate, somewhat clingy Thomas. Is he her boyfriend? Her husband? A neighbour? I would love to know. Something major (and majorly spoiler-y) happens off-page with Thomas as well, prompting the same whiplash as with Randy and Rachel’s relationship. That narrative choice boggled my mind.
As you can probably tell, there’s a lot of structural questions left unanswered in this book. Both setting and characters are hazy, and not a single relationship makes sense. Reading this back, I’m wondering if I’m misremembering or suffering from some kind of fever dream because the issues I mentioned are just so fundamental. I do not understand The Oversoul Realm at all. I will offer up the possibility that I am too dumb for this book and James is a genius beyond my comprehension. I don’t think that’s it, though.
Candice James has a prestigious career. She’s published dozens of poetry collections across 45 years, including The Path of Loneliness. She is a member and founder of assorted literary groups, has received awards, and was New Westminster’s Poet Laureate about a decade ago. Oversoul is her first novel.
James’s background in poetry is apparent in The Oversoul Realm. Lyrical description is frequent (and frequently heavy) and the formatting of her prose can often resemble the structure of a poem. The language is often beautiful, even if it verges into purple prose. Descriptive detail is overwritten while the building blocks of the book tumble down.
To be clear, I am not pinning sole responsibility on James for these flaws. Stronger editorial input should have indicated to the author that some basic who, what, etc., questions needed tending. As I read, I was asking questions any proofreader worth their salt should ask long before the book lands in the hand of harsh reviewers such as myself. I trust that James knows the world of The Oversoul Realm inside and out. That is apparent, but the reader’s need for clarity of this rich world has been overlooked. The publisher should have identified this and allowed the author the chance to develop the unrealized areas. Because I see the potential! But the finished book reads like a draft.
I’ve written at length about the weaknesses of the book, but that’s not to say there were no positives. The concept of the women’s minds converging and the existence of a larger spiritual world were intriguing. The strongest part of the book was when Edith and Rachel prodded at their bond and could almost hear each other. The otherworldly sphere and the characters who occupied it were fascinating and added forward momentum effectively while maintaining a sense of mystery. The descriptive passages about the boat and unspecified coastal town were evocative.
Ultimately, I finished this book feeling angry and confused. The concept is very compelling, but unfortunately muddled. If the details were refined, it could set sail, but as it is, it sinks.
*
At age four, Isabella Ranallo stole a sheet of her mother’s office paper to write the first page of a novel about ten kids stranded on a desert island. This led—with some twists and turns, like any good story—to graduating with a Creative Writing and History BA from VIU, where she was awarded the Barry Broadfoot Award for Journalism/Creative Non-Fiction and the Pat Bevan Scholarship for Poetry. Since graduation, Isabella has worked at the Rossland Museum & Discovery Centre as a research assistant; she currently freelances at Granville Island Publishing. Her work has appeared in the BC Federation of Writers’ WordWorks magazine. [Editor’s note: Isabella has reviewed recent books by Robin Lamarche, Zoe Dickinson, Lacey Jones, Tara Hodgson, PP Wong, Thomas Mark McKinnon, and Arleen Paré for BCR.]
*
The British Columbia Review
Interim Editors: Trevor Marc Hughes (nonfiction), Brett Josef Grubisic (fiction and poetry)
Publisher: Richard Mackie
Formerly The Ormsby Review, The British Columbia Review is an online book review and journal service for BC writers and readers. The Advisory Board now consists of Jean Barman, Wade Davis, Robin Fisher, Barry Gough, Hugh Johnston, Kathy Mezei, Patricia Roy, and Graeme Wynn. Provincial Government Patron (since September 2018): Creative BC. Honorary Patron: Yosef Wosk. Scholarly Patron: SFU Graduate Liberal Studies. The British Columbia Review was founded in 2016 by Richard Mackie and Alan Twigg.
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