a friend brought me this book a few years ago and i was surprised to find the title story was based on someone i know. really closely. i know, but still- odd. the thing is this author, someone i never would have read but that she fell, quite literally, into my lap, does this great thing. she puts a suicide in a story but doesn't make the story about it. it's what generates all that happens but it's not what's really important. she goes other places, explores all the small things. something about her reminds me of raymond carver. maybe her ability to look at something big and scoot it out of the way, over to the edge, in favor of scrutinizing something smaller but maybe more beautiful.