The Tracks of Angels was written in short snippets of a few paragraphs, scenes almost from a play, in narrative and quickie dialogues, if you will, and written, usually in the present tense. Not my style of book, and yet, like a train wreck, my eyes were riveted to the pages and I could not look away. Not until I had read the whole book did I even take a bathroom break. And yet, I would not recommend this book unless one is a masochist voyeur. It is utterly melancholy and full of heartbreak, loss of a mother, an assisted suicide of a philandering father, and a runaway from the stepmon at 18 years old, from California to Boston, where the protagonist eventually becomes...an anorexic waitress who also poses nude for a new gal pal. The heroine's only romantic interest turns out to be, she realizes after sessions of rough sex, a stalker and the rapist of her heart as well as her body. An angel who sits at the foot of her bed and talks to her, sensibly, is her solace and a replacement for her mother, who died of cancer.