Wickersham's subject headings range from cold, clinical facts of who, what, when, where, and how, to ones more concerned with the question that can perhaps never be satisfactorily answered: why. Each heading, with its nested subheadings, almost resembles a free-verse poem:
"day afterThe index itself could stand alone as a powerful work of art. However, each entry that it references is a separate piece of an insoluble puzzle. Every referenced section feels like a fragmented entry in a diary, brief essays that don't add up to an exhaustive whole.
brother's appearance, 48-53
concern that he will be viewed differently now, 54-55
"little room" discussion with his business partner, 56-58
search warrant, 59-60
speculation relating to bulge, 61-56"
If you're drawn to grief memoirs, but looking for something linear and analytical, you may prefer The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion, or A Box of Darkness by Sally Rider Brady.