This is a literary novel. Brand’s writing is pure poetry.
“He let out a scream that the Highway ate, the whimper at the end slid up under the wheels.”
“Already cars heading north on the 400 are tight like a huddle of penguins, the 401 highway running east and west is buckling with steel and rubber naked megadytes.”
“In the summer Toronto sits disconsolate, and humid in its thick pink fiberglass insulation. …he thinks this is how his children have become, built for winters, thick and with the rough, abrasive inside.”
The characters are complex and diverse living unusual and complicated lives.
Although it starts out as a novel with an interesting plot, two men have beaten another to death, it meanders through intersecting lives and finishes with a disappointing ending. The story suddenly jumps into a deeply unsatisfying and inexplicable conclusion. It feels as though the author didn’t know how to get to the (undeserved) happy ending.