Reviews

. . . ruminations on the creative process and what it means when your sense of self is upended through a series of small violences capture the mundanity in trudging through a long-term illness. 

The stories she tells are profoundly intimate yet universal, with themes of self-doubt, irredeemable nostalgia, and uneasy nuclear families.

Readers preferring more straightforward narratives won’t find one here.

There is the power of money and its capacity to corrupt—money that flows often from the pockets of wealthy white men but sheds some green onto any hand it touches.

Like a piece of music or genetic code, the gift changes over time and according to who is experiencing it. Langley’s novel traces the shifts.

This is a world in which the “ways and means” of the novel’s title are no sure thing, in which the relationship of the protagonists to the money they have (or don’t have) easily exceeds tangible causality.

Stop talking to anyone, everyone, about your new projects—just be quiet and think.

Colanzi is rebelling against the loss of collective memory of tragedy, against the unbearable fact that things go back to normal faster than they should.