Our Bookseller says:
“The fact that this book is so big, the fact that it is 1000 pages, the fact that 95% of the book is one long stream of consciousness run-on sentence from the mind of an Ohio housewife, pie-baker, mother of four, cancer survivor, and contemporary Molly Bloom, the fact that this one sentence reads a little like the one you’re currently reading, the fact that all of this can be intimidating, but isn’t that because of our expectations about novel reading? Do I have to read straight through? Can I pick it up and put it down at my leisure? Can I live with it for months? And without feeling guilty? I can when a book is this fun, this intimate, this personal, this topical, this open-ended. I can when a book seriously explores the pressing matter of our desire to avoid uncomfortable facts in favor or remembering everything else.”
Baking a multitude of tartes tatins for local restaurants, an Ohio housewife contemplates her four kids, husband, cats and chickens. Also, America’s ignoble past, and her own regrets. She is surrounded by dead lakes, fake facts, Open Carry maniacs, and oodles of online advice about survivalism, veil toss duties, and how to be more like Jane Fonda. But what do you do when you keep stepping on your son’s toy tractors, your life depends on stolen land and broken treaties, and nobody helps you when you get a flat tire on the interstate, not even the Abominable Snowman? When are you allowed to start swearing?