Had this uniquely gifted and nuanced chronicler of offensive odors stuck with describing the fragrance of ancient dried blood, antediluvian dust, and unspeakable effluents, Krasnostein’s debut would be memorable enough, but her subject’s life story is more remarkable and often just as harrowing as the scent of the derelict apartments she excavates for a living ... Through countless encounters with the fetid, the neglected, and the downright tragic, Parkhurst has found meaning and peace, and Krasnostein a singular subject whom she approaches with well-deserved awe.
... intriguing but vexing ... Krasnostein details each site with tragic if repetitive effect, but rarely convincingly ties them to Pankhurst’s life story ... Krasnostein downplays the complexity of Pankhurst’s existence in favor of a glowing paean laden with cloying therapy-couch clichés and overwrought metaphors ... A complex protagonist makes for engaging material, but Krasnostein’s fawning adulation minimizes and excuses her subject’s flaws in favor of creating an inspirational story that never quite rings true.
