In the opening poem of this generous, richly detailed collection, guests at a tropical hotel push their tables together after dinner and -sit their stories side by side, until they blend into something better, the good eclipsing the bad.- So it is with Hotel Domilocos as a whole. This book plunges us, first into fecund, semi-tropical Central America, then into harsh, high-desert Eastern Oregon, each place with its struggles for livelihood, its efforts at community, its straining toward connection of women and men. Both places feel deeply known. Over the rest of the book, she takes us to...