This is the first book in I don't know how long that made me cry. It's a literary masterpiece in the vein of A Little Life—it's smart without being pretentious, and it's a treatise on survival and perseverance despite tragedy. I loved all the characters, but Marx the most, which is no surprise considering his unending charisma. I have one frustration that almost made me rate it 4 stars instead of 5: Zevin somehow crammed every type of inequality, representation, and current social and political issues all in one book, including Marx's demise due to one of these hot-topic issues. I'm growing tired of not being able to read a book without some sort of agenda—I read to escape, not to be constantly reminded of the horrors of the world. I don't know how much of this is the decision of the author, their agent, the publishing company, or all three. We all know, but tend to forget, traditionally published authors are subject to the social and political agendas of the publication houses they sign with, which recently has me drawn more and more to indie writing. All in all, I loved this book, but I do hope publishing houses will start relaxing a bit. I want to read completely with enjoyment again, instead of the constant bombardment of being told how to think and feel.