On the windswept, wild, and foggy Farallon Islands, off the coast of San Francisco, a group of scientists live in a cabin, where they research the life of the landscape: birds, sharks, whales. The Lightkeepers tells the story of Miranda, a traveling photographer who makes her way to the islands and finds her place amongst the socially-distant scientists. The novel is framed as a journal, written by Miranda to her long-dead mother, chronicling the events on the islands over the course of about a year.

Miranda, quiet and thoughtful, observes her cabin mates as they might observe the birds. The six other characters on the island—including the grizzly Galen, the scrawny Forest, the big friendly Mick, the sharp and manic Lucy—are all richly detailed and brought to life, believable in their quirks and fragility. However, Miranda, as the narrator, is painted unreliably, with her journal omitting information and leaving the reader guessing at her true nature. Just as one often fails to understand oneself, the reader cannot quite grasp who Miranda really is, for her letters reveal only who she thinks she is, and perhaps not who she really is. 

Even Miranda’s name is rarely spoken, as from the get-go her cabin mates get it wrong—believing her name to be Melissa—and she opts not to correct them, eventually being called anything from Melissa to Mel to Mouse Girl. 

Miranda accompanies the scientists around the islands, capturing photographs of wildlife and landscapes while contemplating loss, grief, and life. She assimilates to the solitary lifestyle on the islands, and she finds her niche within the community of seven. Yet, as we see through her writing, she never quite connects with her co-inhabitants, always remaining distant. As much as she learns the ways of life on the islands, she pushes away, seeking a solitude even from limited human contact. 

During her time on the islands, a mystery arises, made murky by Miranda’s uncertain, incomplete accounts. Effectively paced, Abby Geni reveals details of the truth as if revealing distant peaks behind fading fog. While the plot lines may be guessed—as they come logically, eventually—Geni’s evocations of the islands and its inhabitants are enough to carry the reader through the novel. The reader wonders not just what truth lies behind a mysterious death, but also what lies behind each character. What type of person chooses solitude on the Farallon Islands, preferring the company of jagged rocks, birds, and marine life over the company of people? What are the motives behind these individuals?

At first, the characters might feel like lab specimens, interesting in their quirks and differences. However, as Geni enriches them with detail, they become relatable, and before long, one wonders if one might enjoy the rugged solitude of the islands oneself. One might come to think that the rapid rush of cities and suburbs are just a different kind of rugged, solitary, and unforgiving life. 

As The Lightkeepers unravels, and Miranda glimpses the reality of her time on the islands, the reader is left with the novel’s name to ponder. The lightkeepers, the story in the novel goes, were those on the island that lived there to keep the light going in the lighthouse, to prevent ships from crashing ashore. The lightkeepers, as Geni seems to imply, are those that observe the loss, love, and tragedy of life, and yet keep a light of stewardship going, so that we might keep learning, keep experiencing, and keep living. 

Geni writes:

“There are two kinds of people in the world. There are eggers and lightkeepers. The former are driven by acquisition and avarice. The latter are driven by curiosity and caution. Eggers take what they can, consequences be damned. Lightkeepers take what they need, nothing more. Eggers want to have. Lightkeepers want to be.”

Despite the tragedies of life, some must keep the lights on, must keep us from falling into darkness. Those are the lightkeepers.