Memories are like branches of a tree, sprouting off the events and people of our life. Sometimes our memories are accurate, sometimes not. Sometimes they need the perspective that comes from years to see how they fit in with the bigger structure of our lives. Until that perspective comes, we only see the branches and have no real understanding. I am not exaggerating when I say that when you finish the last page of this novel, when you finally are able to step back see the whole story you will be devastated and filled with admiration for this gifted novelist who has tackled one of the most difficult subjects imaginable.