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What I thought would be an ode to Syracuse and a book about aging was a mixed bag of every social issue that has happened in the last five years. There was no depth to what felt like endless plots and sub-stories, to the point where a lot were incomplete; the author just paid lip service to any and all hot topics. Also, the brochures about Syracuse history and Clara Loomis letters at the end were bizarre, and not in an artistic way. Every character was insufferable and flat. Several of them I did not understand what their purpose or their story line was. I hate read the last 2/3 of this novel and only made it through because it was short. The ending was cheesy, unrealistic, and convenient. The only things I did enjoy were the wildly specific Syracuse references (like the Talbots in DeWitt, the detail of the intersection of Bridge St. and Erie Blvd., and several Post-Standard/Syracuse.com references).