This could have been something I loved. In fact, a story I started as a teen was very similar to this: an unhappy woman living in her dead grandmother's house and nothing much happens. I think what I didn't like about this was the protagonist. The description of dead animals that she took pictures of made me uneasy. As did the racism (accurate as it may have been) and her being rude to people in the guise of being "real". Just make small talk, for pete's sake. It's not gonna kill ya. I know depression has ugly corners, but I just ended up not being able to stomach this one.