On the one hand, I loved this book. The prose is very eloquent (I can see why it won the Pulitzer Prize; it seems to be that sort of book), the images very picturesque. And yet, I felt on some level like it was calculated. It bothered me the same sort of way poetry bothers me -- it's beautiful, but I feel like I'm missing something. It's like seeing a snapshot of an event versus experiencing the whole event. And, when I read at least, I often prefer the whole event to a little slice. I felt like I wanted more, needed more, and just when it was getting interesting, the story ended.