

Sometimes it‘s not the characters or the dialogue that is the star, but it is McCracken‘s narrator who runs off with the whole of “Bowlaway,” a book with sentences so off-kilter and rich that the highest compliment I can give it is it begs to be adapted into film by Wes Anderson. Something in every paragraph makes your brows furrow, provides a chuckle about the seemingly cursed New England candlepin alley at the turn of the century. A delight.