I bought this book after hearing the author's reading at a salon for the Wilkes University MA/MFA in Creative Writing residency in June, 2016. Sara Pritchard's alternatively sweet and snarky, high-pitched delivery completely disarmed me as she read an anecdote about a date who took her surfing only to find that she was terrified of water and could not swim.
Crackpots, a novel which I can only assume is based on the author's experiences, is similarly filled with vivid, off-beat characters. The protagonist is Ruby, whom we meet as a small child in red cowboy boots and hat and holsters. Her father is a demolitions expert and her mother is a piano teacher, and snatches of music from those days and the grand piano itself anchor the dreamlike sequences and manic occurrences. Ruby's family is described by observers as a "bunch of crackpots," and as she makes her timid, vivid way through childhood,
schooling, and three marriages, she remains childlike and impulsive, often retreating beneath beds, pianos, and tables.
Her prose is witty and bright, with sudden detours into sensuality or fascinating details, before whisking away into self-destruction or escapism. It's a quirky piece of fiction, but it rings true.