Imagine David Lynch collaborating with Alexander Payne and you've got something close, but not quite as interesting as this book. I've found a kindred spirit here. Antrim's prose style carries the reader along as though he were a leaf on briskly moving creek. He is able to make wildly imaginative leaps, transitioning from past to present memory, yet still maintain a coherent undertow of pathos. This book has everything I look for in a story (though I would consider this a novel length short story rather than a novel).

I'm definitely going to be reading everything by this author and I'd encourage anyone else to at least check this one out.