An exquisite debut autobiographical novel about a powerful bond between a young boy and his teacher; an excavation of art, memory, grief, and transformative love.

At the beginning of sixth grade, newly admitted to a special school for the arts, Marc meets Klara Bloem. Klara is an art teacher, an immigrant to Toronto from South Africa, a devoted naturalist, a painter, and a passionate reader. Marc, an introspective boy experiencing upheavals at home and with friends, instantly connects with Klara’s sharp sense of humor, her keen attention, and her passion for books and art—and it’s clear she feels their connection, too.

She is forty-four; he is twelve.

Those first years glow with special intensity. As Marc and Klara spend hours on the phone, snapping photographs in woods and fields, immersed in the art and curios of her past life in South Africa, and exchanging letters over summer break, Marc feels the creative potential she sees in him beginning to take shape. But he also feels the scrutiny their unusual connection attracts. When he moves on to high school, their calls become less frequent, and their visits grow short. As the memories of those days become hazy and hard to access, he misses the brilliance of their early connection. Years later, when he is working as an actor in Los Angeles, Klara’s daughter Eva reaches out to deliver heartbreaking news, and it all comes rushing back in a flush of color.

With a rare and dazzling tenderness, Bendavid offers us a deep glimpse into an unusual bond, its loss, and the questions it raises. In the tradition of writers like André Aciman, Ben Lerner, and Sheila Heti, The Sapling vibrates with the tension of the everyday, and with the world of beauty that lives just beyond.