What a great read this was. This is the sort of book that makes you want to pull your family a little closer and try to find a way to precisely express how much they mean to you. It's a reminder of how good we all have it for having each other.
The narrative is centered on dark and impossibly complicated subjects, but Ptacin's prose is so clear and striking and honest (deeply, thoughtfully, richly honest) that she never once risks losing you. Always, you're right there, feeling some personal ownership for the thoughts and feelings and questions she's exploring.
In a book filled with favorite lines, this was maybe my favorite: "Nicole used to go through the city of Battle Creek like a walking middle finger." Just like that, I recognized Nicole. And growing from this introduction, comes a moving and complex story that, while meaningful in its own right and even more so in the context of this book, also called forth all the Nicoles I have known -- or thought that I have known -- and made me reflect on the ways I have and have not been a good, helpful person. This is a memoir that will encourage you to take stock and be as truthful with yourself as Ptacin is with herself.
My guarantee: there are at least three parts that will make you laugh out loud and three that will have you tearing up, and a couple that will have you doing both at once. In the end, you'll come away sure that you've learned something about a variety of subjects: birth, life, death, Michigan, vanity plates, the nature of energy, options for coping with rude Italian waiters, cabbage, love. What more do you want in a book?