Read tremendously well by the author, a really strong, engaging performance complete with plentiful differentiated accented voices and all. Generally, I was often thinking that if JD Vance could ride his Appalachian memoir all the way to the White House, there's no reason Grant can't do the same for the Dems. Or maybe that's just an impression relayed by the patriotism on display at regular intervals.
The first time it got real patriotic I was on a pre-dawn run and deemed it "excessive patriotic malarkey" and switched to something else. But then encouraged to keep at it by the writer friend who'd recommended it, I pushed on and am glad that I did, not only for descriptions of Blacksburg and environs, for an inside look at the postal service, for impassioned pleas for a modernized fleet of mail trucks (electric, with AC for goodness sake), for recommendation of the best sort of mailbox most appreciated by carriers, and for how smoothly it integrated research and reams of info while maintaining a coherent narrative, but also and mainly as a memoir of a crackup, for seeing around the narrator, as they say in creative writing classes.
Sometimes seemed like Moby-Dick narrated by Cliff Clavin transplanted from a famous Boston bar in the '80s to the winding roads of rural Virginia during the recent pandemic, suffused with patriotism, class tourism, a predilection for military lingo (author had been in the Boy Scouts and ROTC for a bit), pro-gun talk (bullets are often "chambered"), his professor father shot during the shooting at Virginia Tech, the author shot in Austin in the late '90s, the prostate cancer, the job loss at the start of the pandemic, the high-level marketing career, the glossed-over/unmentioned dual MFAs in poetry and fiction from Iowa. . . . the takeaway for me, the single lingering impression (as Ethan Canin often said in workshops the author may have attended) was that this is more interesting as a memoir of a man losing his shit than it is about delivering the mail.
Or, for me, listening to this driving around, doing errands, on runs or at the gym, the message I received was a manifestation of early 2020s sociopsychological shitshow, a skewed stump speech, a wild heave-ho attempt at riding the craziness as far as it would take the author. Again, JD Vance is VP of the USA, and I enjoyed interpreting this as a sort of well-written, engaging, warped criticism/emulation of Vance's memoir, which I haven't read.
Otherwise, I listened to this thanks to a strong and repeated recommendation of a writer friend who lives in Blacksburg and knows the author, and I suppose I know the author too from grad school twenty years ago (why I included a "potential conflict of interest" tag). We weren't in workshops or seminars together the one year we crossed over, and I don't remember interactions other than one at a party at my girlfriend's house when the cops came after someone shot out a streetlight in the alley with a BB gun. I also sort of remember always respecting him for the story that he had walked out of a Marilynne Robinson workshop when she'd refused to discuss a story of his that involved sex or violence or something she considered unworthy of attention.
Anyway, definitely worth a listen, and for whatever he's running for (or from, more so), he's got my vote!