Touched by the same fate that haunted her brother all his life, Veronica doesn't know that she is an unreliable narrator. Or perhaps she does. In trying to make sense of her brother's life she is perhaps only vaguely aware that she is trying to make sense of her own. Just as she discovers what had happened to her brother, the truth is not very pretty, devastating, in fact. Which makes it all the more remarkable and understandable that the truth she was keeping from herself she only now, as a result of her brother's demise, allowed herself to reclaim. The more we know about Veronica the more we realize that the harsh picture she depicts of those with whom she is in relationship with, her husband in particular, are not as flawed as she makes them out to be. The flaws lie firmly in her body and soul and were sown in the past, along with her brother, now deceased.