Bump paints with the novel’s primary hue: melancholy, which, like a blizzard, can be desolate and romantic at once ... While Bump’s own talent for teasing out the poetry of everyday life is less effective in dialogue — characters tend to speak in pithy witticisms, a found poetry that can feel whimsical for its own sake — David’s narration routinely has a depth of insight, about identity, the fragility of family and the tragedies into which we’re all born. This is delivered with such elegant ease that it sneaks up on readers, who may find themselves tearing up, as I did more than once.
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