This definitely wasn’t as good as the other novel I read by this author. There is a constant tension between Donohue’s very matter-of-fact writing style and the increasingly fantastical occurrences he’s relating. This seems like it might work to the book’s advantage, but instead the two tones fight against each other. Also, it’s fine that we the readers don’t get all the supernatural events explained to us, but I feel that the author didn’t have a handle on them either. It was like he was just throwing out one cool idea after another. Still, the realistic part of the book is a lovely snapshot of Pittsburgh circa 1985, if that’s something you want.