Ed is a weeper. A professional weeper. And there’s always work for Ed and his colleagues. But all those cries can wear a man down, and the tears don’t flow quite like they used to, even for a consummate pro like Ed.
Then one morning, a stranger comes to town. A scrawny kid with no belongings, no parents, no name, no past. And at precisely the moment of his arrival, people begin to experience something new. Something strange. An onslaught of unbidden feelings, unfamiliar feelings, too many feelings
Sweetly wistful ... Funny and forlorn in equal measure, and while I expected Ed’s cowboy shtick to get stale, his voice remains endearing to the book’s inquisitive (and, inevitably, woebegone) ending.
In this fascinating and hilarious consideration of the repression of grief and feeling in contemporary America, Mendelsund explores faith, mourning, friendship, and death in his singularly evocative style.
Humane and darkly comic ... Though Weepers is the sort of novel that resists the easy consolation of a neat ending, that doesn't detract from its appeal. Reflective and atmospheric, it's a meaningful expression of our attempt grapple with some of life's most profound mysteries.
