This probably deserves a 2.5...it wasn't a bad book. But it's Fannie Flagg (I mean, how can you take anyone with such a name seriously?). So the book is one of those syrupy, feel-good (even if it is about suicide), panetheon to female friendship books that you expect Fannie Flagg to produce. And if you're writing a feel-good book about suicide, then you're left--as I was--with this slightly uncomfortable feeling that Flagg didn't really address the kind of serious issues that might drive someone to commit suicide. There's a certain amount of risk involved in writing a book that treats suicide in such a comical way.

One difference from her other novels (as I recall) is that Flagg does take on some "big" issues in this book, acknowledging the mixed and difficult legacy of Birmingham's racist past. Yet, once again, it's somewhat disquieting that her white characters (at least) can only understand that past via its impact on them--how misunderstood they were. Flagg may be trying to disquiet, but it gets lost under her sugar-coated, feel-good story. What exactly is her purpose here? What is she trying to do? The distraction of a dead skeleton (literally) in the plot just sends the story off another tangent that seems to add little to the novel's overall resolution. It is possible that Flagg is trying to make a larger point with this novel about tolerance and understanding, but to do that, she needs to convince her readers to take her seriously.