If there is an afterlife, it exists in the stories told about us by those we leave behind, in the memories of those who loved us, who pass those stories on, laughing at the recollection of the times we made asses of ourselves, and crying at the recollection of the times we hurt them. .... The highest respect we can pay to those we love is to remember them honestly, with all their flaws and talents, and tell each other the stories of why we love them.
In telling the tale of how the identity of a woman who died trapped in the hollow of a tree trunk is discovered, this novel, filled with the supernatural, explores how much of life and death is, in fact, within our control, and how so much of who we are is determined by how we are thought of. Each figment creates a different persona and we are each many people all at once, the book suggests.