Half Broke Horses
This book by Jeannette Walls reads like a dream, in part because it is a dream-washed memory of Lily Casey, the author’s grandmother. The other reason it reads like a dream is that the author tells a simple tall tale in brief, colorful bites of prose, each one shining like a star in the night sky over an Arizona ranch. Lily Casey must have been a remarkable woman to have stories like this told about her, making her life into a dirt-poor, pure-gold legend. I like the way the story gallops ahead without self-pity or introspection. When Lily finds herself in the wrong place, she moves to another place.
Near the end of the book Lily and her husband Jim are in Phoenix:
…The simple truth was, he missed the outdoors…On Sundays we took walks in Encanto Park in the middle of the city, and out of habit, Jim continued to be mindful of what the plants and animals were telling him. p. 251