This is a diary of sorts. It's a fabricated diary. Or it's a real diary that is stitched together into something that is more than a diary.

It doesn't matter because that something more—the work that emerges from stitching the fabric of everyday life together—is extraordinary.

I think I read that Heidi Julavits called her self an "explorer of interiors". And this is very much an exploration of her interior life. It could be (and probably has been) accused of navel gazing. But to dismiss it as naval gazing is to miss... not so much the point as the experience.

There are meditations here on time, family, friendship, gossip, thrift stores. And these can be fascinating and entertaining. What will stay with me, though, are the moments of uncertainty and second guessing. These are honestly portrayed. There were times when they were so honest, I felt embarrassed. Of course, the times I felt most embarrassed were the times I recognised myself in these moments or tortuous indecision.