I cannot help but admire Joyce Carol Oates skills. While, unfortunately, some of the minor characters – notably a corrections officer conducting a death row tour – are painfully stereotypical, like cardboard cutouts, the primary players are wondrously, deliciously painted.
The story is fascinating, but I think this book might have profited by being a little shorter. By the time I worked my way thought the book, I felt I had experienced all the pain suffered by the characters, and their pain is deep indeed. Their pain is like that of the tragic heroes from some Greek tragedy. By the time I neared the end, I constantly thought, “Get it own. Speed it up, Ms. Oates.” Even so, Carthage is hard to put down.
I must add that this story can be so bone-crushingly depressing. I am convinced that many readers will temped to slit their wrists before reaching.