Category Archives: social class

The Creek, the Crone, and the Crow, by Leah Weiss****-*****

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The Creek, the Crone, and the Crow is the newest novel by Leah Weiss, author of If the Creek Don’t Rise and All the Little Hopes. It’s her best one yet. My thanks go to NetGalley and Sourcebooks Landmark for the review copy; this book is for sale now.

Kate is a teacher, and she’s spent ten years as the sole instructor in one of the last one room schoolhouses, located in the tiny Appalachian hamlet of Baines Creek. But they say bad things come in threes, and that is certainly true for the people of Baines Creek, and for Kate as well. First, people from the state sweep in and declare that the schoolhouse must close and its pupils be bussed to a larger school. This is devastating, because locals use a folk dialect that will get them teased by more worldly children that are integrated into the larger society. These kids learn differently, and most parents are so afraid of what will happen that they resolve not to send their children anywhere at all. School’s out…period.

Next, Birdie, the elderly healer and wise woman of Baines Creek dies, leaving all of the homemade books she’s created for decades to Kate. Kate is bewildered. Why her? What to do with them? And Birdie was such a key part of the village that her loss is felt keenly.

And then little Loretty, a child that was being instructed by Birdie, and who is believed to have the same second sight that Birdie had, goes missing. She’s so young, and no one has any idea where she may have gone. Search parties are organized almost continuously, but there’s not even a clue where she may be.

Our second main character, Lydia, is a psychic whose gift vanished when her parents died. She travels to Baines Creek in search of Birdie, who she believes may be able to help her regain her gift. But first Birdie refuses to see her, merely saying that it isn’t time yet; then Birdie dies! However, Lydia’s presence is fortuitous, because she has ideas about all of those handmade books, and so she and Kate work together.

This is a wonderful story, the sort to sink into and lose oneself. For me, the only distraction has to do with setting. For the longest time I am unable to understand what time period we’re In here. Cell phones and personal computers, no; microwave ovens, yes. And Lydia’s niece comes to visit, and she’s described as a Goth, so that makes me think of the late 1980’s or early 1990’s. But then it’s revealed about halfway in that it’s 1978. What? There were no Goths in 1978. Fearing that perhaps my memory is betraying me, I look it up, and nope. Goth culture began in the UK in the early 80s, and it spread to the U.S. a bit later. I harrumph and move on.

The setting of Baines Creek is gloriously resonant, and indeed, all of Weiss’s books have been set in Appalachia. There are underground tunnels and moonshiners’ caves, and I won’t give details that would spoil, but there are a couple of caves in particular that are important to the story and tremendously memorable. The ending, which is always important, but more so in a story like this one, is pitch perfect. Highly recommended.

The Astral Library, by Kate Quinn*****

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“Here there be dragons.”

The Astral Library by Kate Quinn is not to be missed. My thanks go to NetGalley and William Morrow for the review copy; this book is for sale now.

Kate Quinn is a well-established author, but I didn’t encounter her work until 2024, when I read and reviewed The Briar Club. I loved that novel so hard that I was dismayed to see that this new one was not historical fiction. Fantasy? (Heavy sigh!) Oh, all right. Fine. I’ll read it anyway.

My initial impression was that this was a lazy way to build a plot. Place 1, place 2, place 3 and so on. Ho hum. But like Quinn’s version of Boston Public Library, this book is not what it seems to be on the surface. There’s also an important social message about censorship and book burning that’s built into the plot, and I don’t care how much others may hate seeing “politics” in a novel; this is a message thoughtful readers can get behind. The librarian in charge of the special section is a magnificent character, as is the fashion designer that befriends Alix. As for Alix, I love that she is plus-size!

It was a good decision.

Our protagonist is Alix Watson, a young woman that’s recently aged out of the foster care system. Her mother abandoned her when she was still small because her new boyfriend “wasn’t into the whole kid thing.” She left Alix with a couple of frozen meals and went to California.

Foster kids tend to be shuffled from place to place, seldom bonding or sticking, and so the Boston Public Library became Alix’s happy place. Now here she is, a grown woman—barely—and the library has become one of her parttime employers. She is nonplussed one day when she receives a written invitation to visit a little-known part of the library, a secret place where the books are alive and patrons may step into them—literally! Choose a story whose time and place appeals to you, and off you go.

Those looking for a coming of age story with feminist roots could hardly do better; those just looking for a darn good story will find it here. The outstanding ending pushed this one out of four-star territory and into five.  Highly recommended.

The Hadacol Boogie, by James Lee Burke*****

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The Hadacol Boogie is the 25th in the Dave Robicheaux series, and in some regards, it is the best. My great thanks go to NetGalley and Grove Atlantic for the invitation to read and review. This book is for sale now.

All of the books in this series boast complex plots and resonant characters. Particularly rich is the relationship between Dave and his former cop partner, Clete Purcel, whom he has known since early childhood. In most stories, Clete is a loose cannon—the reason he is no longer a cop, but a private eye—and Dave is his moderating influence.  “For whatever reason, Clete could not resist swatting a hornet’s nest wherever he went.“  But this story presents a shift, in which Dave is not fully in control of his own behavior. I have never seen anyone else, whether writing fiction or nonfiction, refer to a “dry drunk,” which is when a recovering alcoholic, without having consumed alcohol, exhibits the behaviors of a drunk, with terrible impulse control and bouts of rage. Dave does some of that here, and Clete is the one to rein him in.

But that isn’t the greatest thing about this story, to be honest. I’m ready to be done with mysteries involving alcoholic protagonists, and so Burke’s excellent writing skills prevent me from throwing up my hands or rolling my eyes, but the “dry drunk” isn’t a compelling part of the narrative for me. No, apart from the fact that Burke is a compelling craftsman—the Denver Post once called him “America’s best writer”—this particular novel is interesting to me because Burke has, at last, developed a female character that doesn’t fit into the Madonna-whore dichotomy that marks most of his earlier work. (An earlier exception is Dave’s boss, Helen, but it feels as if Burke is cheating a little bit there. I enjoy reading about Helen, but it’s clear that the one and only reason she isn’t dying to hop in bed with Dave, like every other female character has, or has wanted to, is because she is a lesbian.) Valerie Benoit is Dave’s new partner. It doesn’t take long for us to be aware that Detective Benoit has a thing for Dave. She’s young, he’s 60, but damn, he’s such a hot guy. At this point I’m ready to toss my reader across the room. Please, no! No! But the story doesn’t follow the trajectory that other women tend to do in Robicheaux’s books. Benoit wants Dave badly, yes, and I wish he’d left that out of this, but he didn’t. The thing that makes this story different is that Benoit is developed as a character should be; her love for Robicheaux isn’t all that we learn about her, nor necessarily the most important. And she and Dave don’t land in bed.

How cool is it for a highly successful writer to show this kind of growth when he’s past 80? I am so damn impressed, and I hope that we continue to see Benoit, not as his wife or his lover, but as a separate character with an independent identity.

I confess that I have never understood the culture of the place where this story unfolds; there are social formalities and intricacies mentioned that simply don’t apply in 2026 Seattle. I suspect these niceties also apply to the author, so it’s just as well I haven’t met him; I have no doubt I’d stick my foot in it, probably sooner rather than later.

Like the other books in this series, this one will appeal most to readers that lean a bit to the left, and that enjoy a literary mystery. There’s plenty of action here, but those that don’t want descriptive settings and allegory should probably go find themselves something else to read.

This book can certainly be read as a standalone, but it will resonate even more to the faithful that have read some or all of the series, as it does build on earlier events. Highly recommended.

The Next One is for You, by Ali Watkins****

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One of the most hotly contested political issues for English speaking people during the 1970s and 1980s was the battle taking place in the North of Ireland between its original inhabitants and the British government. This reviewer was deeply interested in the conflict while it took place, and so when I saw this book, The Next One is for You: A True Story of Guns, Country, and the IRA’s Secret Army, by Ali Watkins,my heart began to pound before I’d read a single page. My thanks go to NetGalley and Little, Brown and Company for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

The fight between the working-class citizens of Belfast and the middle-class Protestants, who worked hand in glove with the British Crown, has roots that are centuries deep. Watkins reviews these without going into the weeds, and leads us up to modern times succinctly. I appreciate her fair discussion of the manner in which the Irish Republican Army, or IRA, developed and burgeoned. (U.S. readers new to the topic should know that ‘Republican’ was part of the name due to a desire for the Irish Northern counties to be restored to the Republic of Ireland, not because of any political similarities to the Republican party in the U.S.A.) Initially the movement was modeled on the Civil Rights Movement of the United States, with large, peaceful marches; there were signs, songs and speeches given. People packed lunches and took their children with them. But these protests were violently repulsed, with police and the military surrounding the participants so that there was no escape, and then shooting them like wooden ducks in an arcade.

Poverty was widespread in Belfast and its surrounding areas, with few jobs, and miserable living conditions in government subsidized apartments. “A Catholic surname got you passed over for jobs, if you even got the chance to apply.”  There was no Bill of Rights, and when armed forces chose to search someone’s home, they announced themselves by kicking the door in. The situation was intolerable.  And so, when peaceful protest was no longer possible, there were two choices remaining: armed struggle or defeat. “The goal: to expel the British from Northern Ireland, whatever the cost.”

Because such a large portion of the U.S. population is of Irish descent, these circumstances were of great interest in America. When the IRA broke off from the more traditional, less militant (and ineffective) organization that already existed, it wasn’t long before many Americans wanted to help in some way. Two organizations developed in the States, and this is much of what Watkins discusses. Clan na Gael was an Irish solidarity organization that had existed in the U.S. since 1867. It became an important element in the Irish struggle, organizing politically, and raising funds. But in order to gain widespread appeal, there needed to be an additional organization that existed for those that wanted to contribute financially to the poor of Belfast without also supporting the armed fight. In 1969, NORAID was born.

A disclosure: this reviewer was a great supporter of both organizations during that time. In fact, I once won a raffle from the Clan, which netted me a wheelbarrow of whiskey! Since I don’t drink, I took one bottle for my spouse and donated the rest back to the Clan. I never joined the Clan, primarily because I wasn’t asked.

Watkins discusses the history of both organizations as well as the key individuals that brought them about. She does a magnificent job and brings a treasure trove of outstanding documentation, right up until nearly the end of the book, at which point she inexplicably lapses into the journo-speak of the period, blathering about “senseless violence” in an abrupt shift that made my jaw drop. She had already explained, very capably, just why a nonviolent struggle was completely impossible. The devastating numbers of Irish youth that died during this campaign is indeed heartbreaking, but at the same time, just what else were they supposed to do? No foreign government was even remotely interested in assisting them; the British government was a key ally of the U.S. government, and had something of a headlock on its protectorates. And while I respect that the author had to conclude the book in one way or another, just admitting that there was no clear solution would have been vastly better than parroting American mainstream media of the time period. What the what?

Nevertheless, those with an interest in this struggle should get this book and read it. Just bear the ending with a grain of salt.

Ain’t Nobody’s Fool, by Martha Ackmann****

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“People don’t come to see me be me. They come to see me be them.”

Ain’t Nobody’s Fool: the Life and Times of Dolly Parton, by Martha Ackman, is a fine biography of one of America’s most iconic musicians. My thanks go to NetGalley and St. Martin’s Press for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

Dolly began singing as a child, first informally, as children do, but she also understood very early on that this would be her life’s work. Most of her family was musically inclined, but she had a greater talent and a greater need to use it. She also had the right personality for the job; though her early years were filled with deprivation—the song “Coat of Many Colors” does actually describe an early childhood experience that marked her—she was also born with a sunny outlook and determination. For example, when she met the love of her life, Carl Dean, just as she was beginning to be heard on the local radio, she told him that though she loved him, she could not become a traditional wife to him. She would not have supper waiting when he finished work. She would not produce a houseful of children. These are the things that would prevent her from realizing her burning ambition. They were a trap. And happily, Carl—a private man that didn’t listen to country music so much as Led Zeppelin—told her that was just fine with him. He wasn’t going to tag along everywhere and be Mr. Dolly Parton, but they would make it work. And they did.

Fans of Dolly’s might have wondered, as I did, whether we would learn more about the rather mysterious Carl when reading this biography. We will not, apart from seeing Dolly’s philosophy where her marriage was concerned. Though in every other respect she has been open and accessible to the public, Dolly has followed her mother’s advice, that she should find just one thing about her life that she would not share with others, but keep for herself. For Dolly, that’s Carl. The man died last year, but she still keeps Carl, and her memories of their sixty years of marriage, to herself. And I don’t see how we can complain.

Whenever I read a galley, I highlight passages that I think might be suitable to include as quotes in my review. In this case, I highlighted 60! I can’t use them all, but this should give the reader a clue as to how readable this lovely biography is, and how saturated with quotes from Dolly, and from those that know and love her. From her early, sometimes tumultuous years working for and with Porter Wagoner, to the actors that she worked with in movies such as 9 to 5 and Steel Magnolias, to her own family members, it’s rich. Another fun fact: by doing some of her recordings in Tennessee, and by creating the massive theme park, Dollywood, she has come close to doubling the GDP of the state of Tennessee!

Many people may not be aware of Dolly’s intellect and savvy business skills. I have read so many musical memoirs and biographies of hugely talented, successful musicians that trusted others to take care of their business matters and accounting, only to discover too late that they’d been robbed. Perhaps my favorite anecdote in this biography is where early on, when she was only starting to be recognized, Colonel Parker, the man that ran Elvis’s career and gutted his finances, came to Dolly to express interest in one of her songs. Elvis wanted to sing “Islands in the Stream.” But he told her sweetly, Elvis is accustomed to receiving the publishing rights to any song he performs. And Dolly, also responding sweetly, told him how sorry she was, but she just didn’t believe in parting with her catalog. Many years later, after she and Kenny Rogers had gone more than platinum with that same song, she said that that song alone made her more than enough money to buy Graceland, at least hypothetically!

Serious fans and researchers will do well to augment their knowledge by reading at least one other biography, or Dolly’s own autobiography, My Life. Though author Ackman has a congenial writing style and has read a great deal about her subject, she has apparently never interviewed Parton herself. I combed through the documentation at the end of the book and found that out of the hundreds of end notes, there are just five references to a couple of interviews by the author with friends and family of Dolly’s. Sources for the book’s early chapters are sparse and not well integrated, relying almost exclusively on the autobiography.

Nevertheless, this is a greatly enjoyable read. I played Dolly’s music as I read, and though I am finished with it and am reading other things now, I still carry Dolly around with me.

King Sorrow, by Joe Hill*****

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Arthur Oakes is in a jam. He is a student at Rackham College in Maine, and to make ends meet, he has a work-study position in the library’s rare books collection. But he finds himself unexpectedly being blackmailed into stealing books from that very place, a nightmare of epic proportions; the solution proves to be an even greater nightmare. He and his friends summon a dragon to get rid of the blackmailers, but now the dragon won’t go away.

My thanks go to NetGalley and William Morrow for the review copy. This outstanding tome is for sale now.

This author has no doubt learned to take comparisons between his writing and that of his mega-famous father, Stephen King, in stride. My own impression from reading both is reaffirmed here: he’s every bit as good and perhaps, at times, better. His father has mellowed in his old age, and he’s become reluctant to kill his most sympathetic characters. Hill, however, has no such compunctions. It increases the suspense to know, while reading, that he actually might do that.

Arthur has become involved with a townie, Gwen Underfoot, whose family has cleaned for the family of his friend, student Colin Wren, for generations. Add in some other friends, Alison Shiner and the twins, Donna and Donovan—clever of Hill to insert some D&D into a dragon story—and we have a cabal.

One of the earliest points of interest for me is that nobody in this circle of friends seems to doubt for a moment that the effort to summon a dragon will be successful. I had expected self-conscious eyerolling, but their approach is well researched and oddly businesslike. King Sorrow arrives with a vengeance, and he does not disappoint! The saga that unspools from there is an epic one, over 800 pages, so those that like to hurry through short novels will need to steer clear or adjust their thinking. As for me, never at any point did I see anything that resembled padding. There is never a slow moment, and while at the outset I made a point not to read this story too close to bedtime, lest it affect my dreams, once I reached the story’s climax there could be no stopping till the journey was completed.

I don’t read a lot of horror these days; most grandmas don’t. But when I make an exception, I want it to be damn good, and this book qualifies. Highly recommended to those that appreciate things that go bump in the night, and especially dragons.

Vigil, by George Saunders*****

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George Saunders is a luminary in the world of literary fiction. His latest novel, Vigil, tells the story of Jill Blaine, also called “Doll,” a formerly alive person who’s now tasked with escorting dying souls on Earth to their next destination.

My thanks go to NetGalley and Random House for the review copy. This book will be available to the public January 27, 2026.

Ms. Blaine, our protagonist, has been tapped hundreds of times to transition the dying to their next stop, but this time it’s different. Others needed to be comforted and consoled; KJ Boone, however, does not. He’s an oil company executive that has oh, so much for which to atone, but he doesn’t see it that way. Boone has more self-esteem, more rampant self-regard, than almost anyone else on the planet. So, in one sense, Blaine isn’t really needed, and yet she is.

Saunders writes some of the most whimsical prose I’ve read anywhere. This novel isn’t getting as much love from some other reviewers, and when I read what they have to say, a bit puzzled by the lukewarm responses, I see why. Saunders has written other books, in particular, two other massively successful novels, Lincoln in the Bardo and Tenth of December.  To reviewers that read and loved either of these, that is the standard to which he will forever be held. I have no such outsized yardstick by which to measure this writer. Both of those books are in my queue, but I haven’t read a word of either one yet, so I measure his novels by the same yardstick as I use for every other author, and frankly, that seems fairer to me.

Therefore, when Jill Blaine plummets to Earth headfirst and sinks nearly to her waist in the dirt, feet sticking up, then has to pull herself back out, I read it and laugh like hell.

I won’t give any of the plot away; this is a short book, after all, and you deserve to be surprised by everything that takes place inside it. However, in addition to its original and vast humor, the story examines some philosophical questions. What do we owe the world and its people? What is chosen, and what is inevitable? Humor is a great way to explore these issues, because we are confronted with them while we’re in a relaxed state; we don’t become defensive before a question is even asked.

Highly recommended to those that love fantasy and philosophy and can use a good, hearty laugh.

My Name is Emilia del Valle, by Isabel Allende****

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“Aren’t you afraid, Angelita?’ I asked her. ‘All the time, but I don’t think about it. I want to die with my boots on my feet,’ she answered…

“I did not know who I truly was until circumstances put me to the test.”

My Name is Emilia del Valle is the newest novel published by feminist icon and author Isabel Allende. The story is a fictionalized account of a journalist that travels from California to Chile, where war has broken out. Because she is a woman, her editor resists sending her, and then, under pressure, agrees that she may go, but only to cover human interest stories in the city. Those that have read any book ever by Allende will know instantly that this is not what our journalist does.

My thanks go to NetGalley and Random House Ballantine for the invitation to read and review. This book is available for sale now.

Like all of Allende’s protagonists, Emilia is a woman that refuses to be constrained by the expectations of the time regarding gender. She is possessed of feverish curiosity, and once she finds herself in the thick of the conflict, she has no interest whatsoever in finding and maintaining a safe, distant place from which to report. She assists the “canteen girls,” who provide water to fallen soldiers, along with minor first aid. Emilia learns first hand about the horrors of war, and she is forever changed by it.

This conflict is one that isn’t widely reported, and Allende writes about it so that it may not be forgotten. Ten thousand died here, mostly men from poor families, killed for no good reason. Emilia’s experiences highlight the disparity in treatment according to social class and wealth, as well as gender.

The writing is first rate as always. However, in most of her earlier novels, the author found a way to intersperse shocking or horrific passages with some that were uplifting, and often very funny. I would bark with sudden laughter at some witticism that I had not seen coming. I wish she had done that here. When there’s too much horror and bloodshed, it is tempting, natural even, for readers to tune out, let the words wash over us. And while there is romance here that provides some relief, I would have liked more.

Nevertheless, those that love historical fiction, social justice, feminism, and especially those that love Allende’s writing will want to read this book.

Words for My Friends: A Political History of Tupac Shakur***-****

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3.75 stars, rounded up.

Tupac Shakur lived for just 25 years, but he left an outsized legacy. Author Dean Van Nguyen has published a “political history,” a biography of sorts focusing on Tupac’s political ideology and the foundation on which it was formed. My thanks go to NetGalley and Doubleday for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

Van Nguyen begins his narrative with an overview of the Civil Rights Movement of the 1950s and ‘60s.  This is an area I’ve studied fairly closely, and so there was no new information in it for me, but I could see its value in a community college Black Studies or general history course. Once we’re past that, we enter into Tupac’s family background, and from there forward, his personal and political upbringings are intertwined. His parents were members of the Black Panthers, a militant, armed group of rebels seeking to force equity for Black people in the U.S. from a government that was long on promises and short on substance. There is a tremendous amount of the book given to the history of the Panthers, and most of what is recounted occurs either before Tupac was born, or while he was an infant.

Here’s my takeaway: I have often been curious about the Panthers, whose struggle I knew in broad strokes, but few specifics, and so this is interesting to me. But the book’s title has led me to believe that this book is primarily about Tupac, and we are at around the 40% before he even comes into the narrative. This is my sole complaint about this work, but it’s a significant one. Had the title been clearer that this is really a history of Tupac and the Black Panthers, I probably would have still read it, but because of the way it’s promoted, I feel frustrated when the 20% mark goes on by, then the 30% mark, and apart from a brief reference or two, Tupac isn’t even in it. In fact, we learn more about his mother than we do about him.

Once we do get to the meat of the matter, this is riveting material. What a gifted man he was, and yet he was still coming of age when he died. He loved reading classical literature, and he attended a fine arts high school where he was better able to develop his interests and talents, playing in Shakespearean productions; but as is often the case for children in low-income households, about the time he put down roots and made connections, his mother had to give up their lodgings, and that meant moving to a new town and a new school.

 This happens again and again. Single motherhood is hard anyway, but once you bring crack into it, the game’s all but over. And (here I suppress a primal scream,) because his father isn’t there and his mother is struggling, Tupac believes he must take care of his mother and long, long before he is old enough to bear such a burden. Teachers everywhere have seen that kid. He might be Black, Caucasian, or any other ethnic and racial background; he might be a she, for that matter. But children that take the responsibility that belongs to the head of the household are under a whole lot of stress, and the fracture lines often don’t show in their teens. They look as if they’re handling the job like an adult, often being praised by those in authority for their organization and focus. But—ask a social worker here—when they hit their twenties, that’s when they start falling apart. Because kids cannot be adults. When they are forced into the role, it will break them, sooner or later. And it seems clear to me that this is part of what led to Tupac’s early demise.

There’s a lot of interesting material packed into the relatively small part of the book that he occupies. We learn about the other famous performers he meets and befriends, first in school, then professionally, and about the political ideas he explores, serving for a while as a member and organizer of the local chapter of the Communist Party’s youth group. His willingness to dive deep into ethical and political ideas is reflected in his music, and to my knowledge, there is no other rapper that has included respect for women, along with an overtly pro-choice message, in their recordings. But just as his star begins to rise in earnest, he is killed.

Those considering reading this book should either be ready to read extensively about peripheral issues and events that don’t directly include Tupac, or should be ready to get the book with the intention of skipping a lot of material. As for me, I’m glad I read it.

Over Yonder, by Sean Dietrich*****

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Sean Dietrich has written another fine novel, Over Yonder, one full of quirky characters, weird yet oddly credible situations, and a whole lot of heart. My thanks go to NetGalley and Thomas Nelson Books for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

Dietrich has been writing for a long while, but this is just the third of his books that I’ve read. As I begin this one, I develop a niggling suspicion, wondering whether this author uses a formula. This would be a sad discovery, because till this point, I have greatly loved his work. And so the question I have to answer before I can do much else is whether that’s true, or whether he is writing unique stories using a signature style. Here is what I am seeing: each story focuses on a girl—teen or child—who’s down on her luck, possibly facing a crisis, with no adult that will help her or advocate for her; an older man dealing with misfortune of his own such as a fatal or serious illness, and who is otherwise isolated and in need of redemption; and a chance meeting of the two in a small town in the deep South.

I suppose, after reading this third one I am inclined—as you can see from my rating—to say this is a signature style rather than a formula. I hate to be played. If I felt this was a formula, I would feel annoyed and my review would not be generous, but that’s not what happens.

Caroline is 17 and pregnant. Her boyfriend, Tater Bunson, is at the wheel of his ’93 Honda.

“Caroline stared out the lace-like cracks of the passenger window’s single bullet hole at downtown Knoxville…her hair was the color of a carrot. She was ninety-four percent freckles. Her small, upturned nose, full cheeks, and cherub face brought to mind a character from the highly successful Cabbage Patch Kids product line…Tater spun the wheel right. The car made a sound not unlike a Folgers can of rocks falling down a public stairwell. The spiderweb crack on the passenger window came from a .22 caliber bullet that had passed through the glass during Tater’s last heated disagreement with his mom.”

Woody Barker used to be a priest. He has a houseboat and a bad heart, and not much else. He can qualify for a heart transplant, but only after he quits smoking, and it’s not going well. He’s lonely; he had hoped to pick up with his ex-wife once he got out of prison, but now that he’s out, he sees that she has a boyfriend, and it looks like he’s out of luck. Then an old girlfriend summons him to her deathbed. She wants him to meet his 17-year-old daughter. Who? What??

Dietrich’s wry humor and visceral figurative language are out in force here. Highly recommended to those that enjoy strong Southern fiction with deeply developed characters.