This was a re-read of a book that left a huge impression on me when I read it for the first time as a pre-teen. Every bit as moving the second time around at 31. I do think the writing quality massively improves about halfway through, but that’s neither here nor there (it’s, if you will, Elsewhere, chortle chortle chortle). Zevin’s gift is in painting the profound specifics in broad brushstrokes. I’m really glad I revisited this sweet gem of a book.