Lorianne Karney has excellent control of her craft. The writing in Saints and Lovers evokes the essence of a journal or even a wandering train-of-thought. You quickly come to realize that despite this style, the story is far from the natural rambling of free-writing. Karney has shaped the story in the guise of a confessional, so personal that at times it crosses into vulgar; yet, underneath this facade beats a singular story being revealed moment-by-moment.

This is not an easy read. It is not a summer read or a beach read or even a sleepy evening read. This book takes patience and care and the occasional back-tracking to re-read the last couple paragraphs when your mind wanders. A wandering mind is tough to avoid, too, because it is essentially what Karney is creating for us on the page.

While elements of the story are viscerally real, so much of the common stage-setting description has been left out in ways I suspect were intentional. Without an anchor to moor us, the characters flitting in and out of dialogue and scene, memory and action, all seem a bit like will-o-the-wisps. Everything is painted in the dreamy half-light, half mist of memory, even the main character herself.

What the book is about is debatable. By the end of the story it's not entirely clear that there was a singular vision for the plot, per se. There can be no doubt that there has been a change in the main character, however. This is what I see as the essential element to Saints and Lovers. The mind for all its daydreams and wanderings, memory, regret, pain and confusion; is capable of great change.