I read cozy and historical mysteries, a bit of Paranormal/UF, and to mix it up, I read science and gardening books on occasion.
What an odd book. I liked it, but I'm struggling to say why. I suspect I've just been fed literary fiction disguised as something more palatable and mainstream, wrapped in an irresistible cover.
The two most overwhelming impressions I took away from the book are poetry and allegory. Poetry in the form of the prose in the opening pages of the story, where it's so heavy with lyrical verse as to be cloying, and again in the opening pages of each section, where it's dialled down but still more melody than verse. Allegory, because the story feels like the author's way of working out the balance between faith and empiricism, if not for the reader, then perhaps as an exercise for herself.
On a literal level, the story is, as I said, odd. The reader is held at such a remove from the characters, it's hard to feel any emotional investment in any of them. I liked Cora and Will and Stella, but the rest? I'm afraid I really don't understand the point of Luke's part, and for me, Perry utterly failed to convince me that Frankie was anything more or less than a selfish and spoiled boy. Martha, too, struck me as nothing more than a narcissist, caring more about her duty than the people she is fighting for. For me, the most convincing character of the lot was the pan-handler, Taylor.
Still, it's a beautiful, richly told story, if one is willing to experience it as the distance the author holds it. Looked at too closely, it's flawed, but hold it back far enough to fuzz the edges and it's gorgeous.