Readers come to know this funny, quirky family pretty well. There is a kindness in all, even Byron, who tries to hide it, which induces in the reader a growing affection. Even children who normally prefer plot-driven narratives are carried along by the uproarious shenanigans of the whole family, especially the father and Byron.

Most of the book is hilarious, told in Kenny's distinctive and believable voice. But when the family travels South, and Joetta heads off to Sunday School in Birmingham, readers who know a bit of history think they know what's coming, and brace themselves for it.

When Joetta is not killed in the church bombing, readers heave a sigh of relief, and the family heads back to Michigan for the last chapter of what now seems like an enjoyable but lightweight book. And then, as the readers' defenses are lowered, the author wallops them with an emotional sucker-punch, one that comes in the simple, earthy, completely unpoetic language of Kenny and Byron.

For Kenny saw the results of the bombing, and he is no longer whole. And no one knows what is wrong or what to do about it, as he drifts further and further away, disappearing day after day, hidden behind the couch where he believes magical powers will somehow heal him. But, in an emotionally wrenching scene, tough, bad, kindhearted Byron figures out what is going on and, in his casual, undemonstrative way, knows just what to do about it.

From the Book:
Dad was doing his best not to explode laughing. ... Finally he put his head on his arms and leaned against the car's hood and howled. ... "Why are you asking how it happened? Can't you tell, Wilona? This little knucklehead was kissing his reflection in the mirror and got his lips stuck!"