Both girls are born in the late '60s-early '70s, so being of roughly that vintage myself, I thought I'd be reminded of childhood experiences.
I recognised the trips to the beach, feeling sick on winding, hilly roads, cries of ''Are we there yet?'', and tape decks, but not drinking copious amounts of sherry, as these teenagers do.
I liked the description of an old tent letting tiny points of light in, while one of the sisters wonders ''how long it will take before the tiny holes join hands and the whole thing disintegrates completely''.
The line that resonated the most was: ''Do you remember when it never rained in summer?''
Gilly and Marina's lives are not sheltered, with a father and step-father, several house-moves, and the usual teenage angst, but they are also trying to deal with the death of their younger brother.
After some scene-setting in the early '70s, the action alternates between the fateful time of the death in 1979, and 1987, when another death creates tensions in the family and accelerates the need for both girls to leave home.
A medley of characters play their part, including influential ones: grandfather Donald, shoe-shop assistant Paul, and bee-keeper Aurora, and a variety of passing cameos.
Marina, particularly, struggles with the past, searching for answers and closure in her dreams and in reality, but Gilly also thinks she has buried a feeling ''deep in magma'', but ''it has burrowed its way up to a shallow grave, and her own sister has kicked off the dirt and let it back in the world''.
Events move quickly in short chapters, driving the reader to the end, and revealing what happened in 1979, although this wasn't as startling or as sinister as might have been expected.
The closing does offer a suggestion of hope for all those involved.
A fresh New Zealand voice, Breen's style is evocative, quirky, compelling and enjoyable.
• Rachel Gurney is an avid Dunedin reader.
