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Stephen MetcalfDarcey Steinke is also, in her own way, a skeptic about the virtues of the contemporary memoir, now a mostly secular genre in which every human unhappiness is trendily medicalized or assigned its origin in a topical childhood trauma. In her memoir, Easter Everywhere, Steinke has dared to ask, What if my abiding sense of misery isn't due to abuse or balky neurotransmission, but to the absence of God in my life, to an unfulfilled relationship with my own divinity, as vouchsafed to me by the Creator?
This may seem a peculiar starting point for a Brooklyn it-girl novelist best known for books with titles like Suicide Blonde, but my preconceptions evaporated by about Page 3, when I became riveted by Steinke's tone, a steady, lovely, hallowed, patient, things-in-themselves hum.
—The New York Times