What happens when society determines that a person has no value, no worth?
The characters in this novel find themselves in just such a position. As a consequence, they have been pushed to a forest preserve on the outskirts of town to survive off the land. And here we watch them scrape by, as they ponder the meaningless of their lives and the unknown reasons they were shunned.
There is a poetic, lyrical sweep to the language in this book. The writing is what I would call elliptical, in that it moves in loops that alternately swing back and the propel the story forward. It's repetitious in a way that makes the reader attuned to the subtlest shifts in language that then ripple outwards. I think I can best compare it to a Philip Glass composition. Though I also see a great deal of Beckett's Waiting for Godot here too. If those sound like heady comparisons, then, well, good. Because this is a hell of a book that'll leave you wanting to read it a second time right after you finish.
It may be tempting to see this book as a fable or as allegory. But the fact is, you don't have to look very far to see people like this. They live under bridges in tent-cities, and shanty-towns under overpasses. If you stop for a moment, as you go about your way, and listen, you can hear their howls of anguish and despair.
This book tells their story.