This book is a magical soul journey woven like a dream as it moves through time & through place within & without in a gorgeous existential crisis of faith. It IS a memoir but reads like a longer narrative poem with distinct lyrical moments.
It's not all rainbows though as Schneider's childhood was less than ideal in impoverishment of the body but also a famine cage of her spirit. I don't know how she kept the vital coal of her Self breathing but she did.
There were certain moments of the early journey to Ireland that I felt the book being a tad self-indulgent and the story dragged a bit. Don't let that stop you from enjoying this potent book though.
Here's a taste:
"...I'm filled with laughter again--deep inside, where it cannot bubble up to the surface, but effervesces (is there such a word?) in the dark beneath articulation, as wine must do, in the making, in a dark cellar--bright suns of summer's dandelions making ready to rise under the cork, under the floor of daily life, in the root-vegetable/wine cellar of the unconscious."