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Don't know what to say about this book. Not even sure what it wanted to be. Was it a novel wanting to be a play or a play masquerading as a novel? Suffice to say I have mixed up mashed up feelings about what I read. While the topic broke my heart, the loss of a child, any child, breaks one apart into so many pieces, I just could not get into the discourses from previous people, dead people in the graveyard welcoming at times, ( I think) Mr Lincoln's young deceased son, Willie. The Civil War is raging and the President already heavy hearted about the war becomes grief stricken when his eleven year old son dies. I must admit even the thought of this brought tears. Yet, the ghosts, spirits, lost souls refuse to believe they are dead and think they might one day be able to recapture their lives be they good lives or bad. I guess the premise is quite innovative however, this innovation left me wondering always, confused often, and looking forward to the end of the tale. I know I seem to be among the very few who just had very ambivalent feeling about this book.