Everybody’s already read it, but I loved it.
Everything happens about a decade later in Middle Georgia than it happens everywhere else, so it was evocative of my early childhood. We had a maid named Roberta and I loved her fiercely. I think of her and miss her fiercely every day of my life.
I thought the writing was wonderful and not hokey, and a lot of people miss the mark when writing Southern literature.
Just read this a couple of weeks ago and made me so homesick. Yearning to leave Los Angeles and find a street with front porches, lemonade and rocking chairs, with cicada music in the long evenings.