I wasn't sure I was going to like this book... but then I never am. That seems to the mantra that I open every book with: distrust of the author's skill, interests, etc. I was encouraged early on by the author's gift for language... Bits like "She was so Southern that she cried tears that came straight from the Mississipi...", and "Memories, even hard memories, grew soft like peaches as they got older."

Ah, you're thinking that this is one of those dreary Southern rites of passage books, one of those heartwarming books. Nope, it wasn't. It was comedy, it was magic realism, it was a thriller, it was a long poem... and it was light and fluffy (in all of the good ways.)... It wasn't hard to read.

I started the book on a note of panic... My new book club was meeting on Saturday and I started reading reluctantly at 12:00 am Friday night... after the talk shows were over. I dropped the reluctance by page 3. The language is a delight, and the villains in the story are... unusual in that I enjoyed their journey and I can't say that about most antagonists. J. K. Rowling is surely drooling somewhere.

This book was unusual because it was a light read... yet the skill of the author made it a challenging read... ie I didn't feel like I wasted my time reading it. I couldn't put it down... I literally read from 12am to 4:30am. Time well spent.

The book is bawdy... a soft R. I suppose it was chick lit, but it was so well-written that I think anyone of age would like it.