[extract]Two months after her husband died, on November 12, 1851, Eliza Ripple stopped writing letters to her mother back in Kalamazoo. The reason was both simple and complex. Her mother had written her three letters, all of them lamenting and lamenting and lamenting Peter's demise, but, apart from the shock (which was perfectly understandable given that he was shot in a bar fight in Monterey), Eliza was more relieved than upset. **Praise for Jane Smiley ** '[Smiley] seemingly writes the way her idol Dickens did - as easily as if it were breathing' New York Times 'The phrase "a great novelist at the height of her powers" is so overused, but for once here it really is true' The Times 'Smiley is that rare three-fer: meticulous historian, intelligent humorist and seasoned literary novelist' Los Angeles Times