I had a really hard time getting into this book, although there was nothing discernibly wrong with it. The writing is solid, the story is interesting. So why was I struggling with it? And then it hit me. There are huge sections without dialogue. In fact, most of the story is written in narrative form, which makes sense from the POV of a grandson who wasn't even born for the beginning of the story. It's told with the familiarity of a lifetime's listening to the stories of parents and grandparents. The problem with this is that there is an almost lack of connection with the characters. Even when someone dies, it is mentioned cursorily, moving on to the next chapter without giving the reader a chance to feel grief. Life and death chatted casually over a cup of coffee. 
 In a more positive spin, I loved the feel of Missouri. I've never traveled there myself, but I was still able to conjure a vivid image from the book's descriptions. By the time the narrator's story arrives at his own childhood, I was able to become a little more entrenched in the story, and for this reason, was a little disappointed by the way it wrapped up at the end. It was all tied up nice and tight, no loose threads, but I felt that the story closed with a sigh.