
When the world shuts down, Julian Künstler lands in Venice, California to help his indomitable grandmother Mamie after a small fall. He’s twenty-four, aimless, and licking his wounds; she’s ninety-three, sharp as glass, and brimming with a life’s worth of stories she’s finally ready to share. As days stretch into months, Mamie recounts the family’s late flight from Vienna in 1939, the shock and freedom of Los Angeles, and the ‘colony’ of German-speaking exiles who remade their lives by the Pacific. There’s the day a seagull died at Mamie’s feet as Greta Garbo stood beside her, the Thanksgiving when Hollywood’s glitter met Old World sorrow, and the afternoons when a demanding Arnold Schoenberg taught her both tennis and how to hear the future.
Outside, helicopters thrum and curfews return. Inside, the house fills with music, memories, and unexpected love: a neighbor named Sophie with a puppy; a friendship with a Black elder whose story reframes Venice; and a small miracle that frees Mamie’s loyal Agatha from old fear. By the time Julian’s parents fly in with plans for his return, he has something clear to say about the life he wants. This is a warm, funny, and piercing novel about exile and belonging, grief and reinvention, and how stories can make a home.