My god, do I love Claire Oshetsky's writing. Their trademark odd combination of straightforward prose and everyday magic is present again in this story about grief, parenting, regret, childhood, fate, and the stories we tell ourselves about our lives. This book is sad. Poor Deer actually has an opposite portrayal of motherhood from Oshetsky's CHOUETTE, one where the mother fails to support her kid. A beautiful book, but bring your tissues.