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The author really knows her stuff. I have no trouble believing that she's among the foremost forensic anthropologists in the world, and possibly in the #1 spot of that small society.

I learned a lot from her. I did not realize that, at my age, it is quite likely that a lot of the cartilage in my knee is turning into bone; that the reason I am embarrassingly unlimber when I attempt to do yoga may be that, at my age, I am significantly ossified, literally turning to stone, or bone. The author is adept at explaining the differences between male and female skeletons, teenagers vs people in their twenties, and newborns vs. fetuses. Given a small scrap of bone nearly burned up in a fire, she's often able to tell whether it's human or not, and even which particular bone it was. The parts of the book where she shares her wealth of anatomical knowledge were first rate.

My three star rating stems entirely from the fact that nearly all of the stories in this book center around murder victims, and her efforts to bring the perpetrators to justice, or at the very least identify the body so the families and loved ones of the deceased no longer are in limbo. This just doesn't interest me. It's not the authors fault -- she wrote the book she wanted to write, and wrote it pretty well -- but it's just not the book for me.