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The writing here is musing, ruminative, meandering from pillar to post, just as in the conversations she hears which are only half translated for her. There is a real sense of exploration and "otherness" in the book. And while Kephart does have her own unique way with words, I found the book difficult on which to stay focused. Chapter titles (Art, Luck, and Freedom are just a few examples) are not the usual sorts of topics for a memoir and perhaps this caused me difficulty. It was definitely thick, slow, dreamy going while I was reading it. But almost all of the reviewers at amazon found it exquisite so I'm clearly in the minority opinion thinking it was an okay read rather than a transcendent one.
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