Jodi Picoult is back.

You might not be familiar with the name, but you’ve undoubtedly heard of the tearjerker My Sister’s Keeper and19 Minutes, the story of a high school shooting, which have both graced the New York Times bestseller list and turnedPicoult into a literary force.

In Picoult’s 20 years of writing, she’s covered everything from ghosts and domestic abuse to eugenics and homosexuality.

Now, she’s tackling the Holocaust.

Her latest novel, The Storyteller, comes after a string of books not quite exactly been up to Picoult fans’ expectations. But this book brings us back to her glory days, addressing a heavy topic in a way that’s so gripping and horrifying that you’re torn between throwing the book across the room or ripping through all 400-plus pages without stopping.

Part of the novel is done in Picoult’s typical style, weaving the lives of multiple characters together effortlessly and unexpectedly. There’s a Jewish FBI agent tracking down Nazis still alive and living in the United States. Sage Singer is a disfigured baker who blames herself for her mother’s death and spends more time with dough than with people. The kindness of an old man who has established himself as the grandfather of the community is tainted by a shadowed past.

But while in the past Picoult has relied on court cases and trials to address moral gray areas, this time she tackles these issues without the literary clutch. Additionally, this story takes place almost 70 years ago instead of in the present day. There’s even a Germanic fable thrown in for good measure.

Picoult put extensive research into the book, and it shows. The passages about the Holocaust are similar to ones you might find in The Diary of Anne Frank or Elie Wiesel’s Night. As an author detached from the horrific events she’s describing, Picoult is able to analyze and weave together others’ experiences to show us a larger picture.

There’s a lot going on beneath the surface, too. Picoult’s novel speaks truths of mortality, dreams and love and is layered with undertones that reprimand us for being so quick to hide ourselves from the world when, almost a century ago, people would have given almost anything to have the liberty to be a part of it.

Picoult makes us empathize with and believe in her characters. While her novel is not exactly complicated reading, it’s not really a beach read either, unless you happen to have a box of tissues handy.  The Storyteller is heavy. It’s multifaceted, beautiful and horrendous — and it’s impossible to put down.