By most measures this book shouldn’t work, and yet I quickly found myself drawn into its near-desperate investigations. The author finds chapters from her father‘s Unwritten Book after his death and so she begins outlining  life, death, and all the threads in between. The fixation with finding clues and meaning in the margins will likely put off a lot of readers but it felt familiar to me, as someone who’s experienced profound loss. There is something that ignites in your brain with loss, trying to make sense of the unfathomable absence. Although at times manic, I feel like Hunt captures that fractured infatuation well in this text.