The hallmark of Anne Tyler's novels is that she takes on the minutiae of everyday life. When it works well, it's an amazing voyage into the hidden hearts of ordinary people. When it doesn't work well, it's boring as heck. This one doesn't work well. The characters are mostly reacting -- or not -- to the accidental death of a neighborhood child, but mostly they just move around on the stage having inconsequential conversations, ending up right back where they started.
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