Reading this book is like watching a terrible car wreck in motion so slow it drags on for days, knowing the whole time that the victims, if they are lucky enough to survive, will be irrevocably crippled and devastated. No, really, you should read it. Dubus* compensates for all the misery he invokes by weaving (for the first half of the book) a beautifully balanced tale of an inexorable force meeting an immovable object.

Metaphors not working for you? Recovering addict Kathy is evicted from her house by the county tax office; Iranian immigrant Behrani purchases said house at auction. Both refuse to relinquish what they believe is rightfully theirs. Tragedy ensues.

Unfortunately, somewhere in the second half of the book, Dubus' uncanny balance slips, and as a result the tragedy seems less poignant. I found myself thinking, meanly, that certain characters deserved what they got.

*Is this author, Andre Dubus III, related to the (wheelchair-bound?) Andre Dubus who wrote those great short stories I used to love, like Dancing After Hours, and We Don't Live Here Anymore?