Something like an elegy and a memoir combined, this is a quiet novel, and one which depends on voice and characterization moreso than plot. Davis' prose is simple and quick, with passages that rely on rambling sentences and conversational tone. The book as a whole is wandering, though, and reads a bit too naturally at parts, as if Davis work really were simply an un-edited journal/memory. That may well add to the beauty of the book, but it also takes away a bit of the emotion and suspense that I might have been here, and instead get lost at various moments. Simply, I wanted more about the narrator's life outside of the novel's focus, and wanted to feel more like I knew him, instead of knowing one aspect of his life. The narrator's focus makes sense, considering the circumstances of the book, but I still needed more to see him fully as a person.

In the end, I have mixed feelings about this one. It has a simple beauty to it, and the fact that it doesn't read like a novel does make it stand out in a certain way. I can't help feeling, though, that it feels marginally undone or unfinished. But then, perhaps that's the point, considering the subject.