Fiction. Following Joyce Goldenstern's voice is like following a train of thought... that suddenly leads to an epiphany. It is a voice that takes us deep into ourselves and shows us what we are made of, convincing us that despite our failed dreams, we are normal with our "Ten toes. Ten fingers. Two arms. Two legs. Two titties. One head. One heart." And that despite, or because, of that one heart, we constantly struggle to "find [our] way back to put [ourselves] together again" as we battle with "the important questions of life." Without pretense, her stories take us on the pilgrimage of life, hoping perhaps that we do reach some understanding.
Many of the dozen short stories were good, one kind of weird but the final one, entitled with the same title as the book totally irritated me because the author crossed the line on taking poetic license. A main thread in her story encapsulated an actual horrific event in Chicago history - one in which many remember vividly - particularly having survived it and carrying the scars from it, literally and figuratively, throughout their lives. She names the place and location incorrectly as well as pertinent statistics in more than a half dozen places - minimal research could’ve supported her story - the errors were irritating. A bit further on she spells the name of a prominent politician everyone has known. Just lazy, sloppy work.