About halfway through this book, I came to a halt and looked up. I then said something forceful, along the lines of "Holy God, this was the funniest book I'd read in ages." However, I hadn't laughed out loud even once. The reason, I soon realized, was that there weren't any traditional jokes in it. The narrator, Edna Earl, isn't the type to go around telling jokes. But when she describes something as being done "politely," she actually means the exact opposite. That's what my English teacher taught me was the definition of irony. This book is a little masterpiece of capturing the southern US voice and place. It's like a combination of Faulkner and Austen - it has all the wonderful locutions of language and syntax, but without the apocalyptic passions. Instead, we are introduced to Edna Earl and her Uncle Daniel, and their familial doings and complications. Most of these complications arise from Uncle Daniel's heedless largesse and the efforts to restrain his prodigal generosity. There is also the rich comic drama that emerges from his precipitative second marriage.