This was painful to read, and not because of overwhelming empathy for her sad sack of a main character. Quite the opposite -- by the end, I didn't really care what happened to him. I never felt connections between him and the other characters or with the new home he made for himself. 
 The writing itself was a chore to get through at times, as well. The ridiculous names (Bunny? Petal? Sunshine? Wavey?), the sentence structure (too. many. fragments.)... just felt like a long slog to the end. I enjoyed the moments where Proulx allowed herself some longer sentences and descriptions, particularly of the landscapes in Newfoundland. These were too few and far between, however. 
 I removed all her other books from my reading list, but please leave a comment if you feel she redeems herself elsewhere. I wanted to like this!