last paragraph pg 92: "We looked at all the pictures and then put the envelope away. I run across it every now and then but I've not opened it up. I don't need to, knowing what's in it. Knowing what's not in it. The next time June visited us I took just as many pictures of her, and I kept on taking them. Those I don't mind looking at. I can stare at those long enough to see what I want to, see her mine. It's just a matter of seeing what you want to see. People do it with hearing, thinking, and saying all the time. But seeing's harder, especially when you know that an old bulldog is never going to get you confused with her mama, but a little girl might. If you stay by her, she might."
a book of guesswork, flat jokes, sparse detail, elusive characters,
it is either a poem too long or a novel too short.
she has a beautiful voice through the female character, but no matter how simple you make a man, it doesn't seem a woman can quite capture his psyche (and vice-versa), and this book is no exception. the book alternates the main male and female voices per chapter. the last chapter is told in omniscient third person with thought italics for the characters involved.
the whole book is like blowing up a balloon for so long you think your lungs are gonna give out. then it's nearing close, you get to the last chapter, tie the sucker to a string, and wait for it to float. the whole last chapter is a dead balloon on a string. then you have to put a scissor through it and throw it out.
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