Grief is the Thing with Feathers by Max Porter, 114 pages
Patrick and Christa both read and reviewed this before I did, and both seemed to enjoy it more than I did. They, I suspect, were readier for the references to Ted Hughes' Crow, and for the visceral embodiment of grief itself. I, on the other hand, was largely confused and impatient when I read it. So perhaps it was a matter of wrong place, wrong time for me.