It might not be for everyone, but I absolutely adored Zorrie. Quiet and intimately told, I was swept up in this woman’s life and how a seemingly ordinary existence is filled with everyday bits of the extraordinary.
It’s a straightforward story of an orphaned girl coming of age in rural Indiana during the Great Depression. Maybe it’s the Midwesterner in me that fell in love with this character, and her stoicism. Zorrie suffers so much hardship and sadness, but the tone isn’t overly melancholy, the pacing is swift, and the novel has a beautifully bittersweet conclusion. 

“𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐞, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ‘𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭’ 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝, 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭. 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫—𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐚 𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞—𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝.”

As with most books I love, I don’t know what else to say - other than it is absolutely worth picking up this slim, yet highly impactful, @nationalbookfoundation award finalist.