Because it allows a menopausal woman to be interesting, rather than relegating her to a stock turn as a harpy or shrew or somebody’s comically clueless mother.
Because the novel is a paean to the beauty of ruined things.
Because the New York Times reviewer gets it right when she says, “The characters stumble toward questions about the structures holding them — their bodies, homes, identities — wondering how and where to draw their borders.”