This was my second Joyce Carol Oates book (I read Middle Age: A Romance last summer), and I should have used my feelings toward that book as a guide when it came to reading this book. In short--I should have avoided it. I don't mean to claim that it isn't a good book or anything, but Oates's style just isn't for me. Which Darrell would actually find ironic--my biggest issue with the writing style of Oates is that it's too much detail and not enough plot. And that's exactly how I tell stories--I have to give the backstory to the backstory to set the scene for the actual story. And while it doesn't bother me when I do it (although for Darrell's sake I've tried to be more cognizant of that and cut back on that), I don't particularly enjoying reading a book narrated in that fashion.
From a storyline standpoint, though, the book was certainly interesting. The plot follows a family that is slowly torn apart by a harrowing act of violence. Each of the family members responds to the event in his/her own way, and the individual methods of dealing with the pain serve as the force to separate them, ultimately sending them down different paths in life. I found the book to be a fairly accurate portrayal of family life, and I don't think it's a stretch to say that this kind of thing could happen to any family. But, as the book so thoroughly demonstrates, family is always family, no matter what.
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