Every­one had been sur­vived into dif­fer­ent futures and I would nev­er see any of them again. I could sense this. I would hear them in their sep­a­rate rooms, with­in their sep­a­rate lives, but I would not be able to cross over to meet them. 

In Rooms for Van­ish­ing, the vio­lence of war has frac­tured the uni­verse for the Alter­mans, a Jew­ish fam­i­ly from Vien­na. Mov­ing across decades, and across the world, the nov­el finds the Alter­mans alone in their sep­a­rate futures, haunt­ed by the loss of their loved ones, each cer­tain that they are the sole sur­vivor of their fam­i­ly. 
 
Son­ja, the daugh­ter, has gone in search of her hus­band, who has dis­ap­peared into Lon­don; Fania, the moth­er, is con­front­ed with her dop­pel­gänger in the base­ment of a Mon­tre­al hotel; Moses, the son, is fol­lowed by the ghost of his best friend; and, final­ly, Arnold, the father, dares to believe that his long-lost daugh­ter might be alive after he receives a mes­sage from an Eng­lish­woman claim­ing to be her. 
 
Spell­bind­ing and pro­found, Rooms for Van­ish­ing is a sin­gu­lar work that explores how — amid pro­found loss and the mad­ness of grief — ghosts are made momen­tar­i­ly real.