Elizabeth McCracken, or maybe just "the narrator" who is a fictional being, and also an author, goes to London after the death of her mother to grieve and reminisce and whatnot. The book is a series of vignettes recalling crazy times with her and her mother, and also her father, and other things that I have now forgotten.
I liked this book, I just can't remember it well unfortunately. So, I'll just paste down some quotes I liked when reading:
p7: "What netherworld could be more nether than this one?"
p37: "My understanding of my own soul is preliterate. Wife, daughter, mother, friend, some people write in their social-media biographies. Why on earth? Applying any words to who I am feels like a straight pin aimed at my insect self. I won't have it. I can't do it."
p95: "Any way you get work done is a good way to work."
p108: "A human being is not a lock, and the past is not a key."
p110: "My mother's good cheer was an engine that would burn you if you tried to touch it, hoping to switch it off."
p140: "As for me, I don't think writing is that hard, as long as you're comfortable with failure on every single level."