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Dwight GarnerTwo soldiers in dress greens knocked on the door, came inside to deliver their news and then walked back out. It's an all-too-common scene, but it arrives at the beginning of an uncommon book, one in which a mourning father has scooped up a dead son's e-mail messages, blog posts and journal entries and combined them with his own observations. He’s made something that is, at worst, ungainly, but at best raw and true and unvarnished and strange, its own kind of outsider art.
—The New York Times