When examining the craftsmanship of First a Dream, one is immediately aware of Daly's forceful use of language. She has a marked ability for writing descriptive prose that creates sharp, focused images for her readers, whether of a "torn turkey with grizzled wattles," cigarette smoke that makes "a wispy second ceiling," or eyes that are a "bright watery blue, the whites crisscrossed with tiny red veins." The precision of her words as she writes of smell and touch and feelings evoke rich sensory experiences for her readers. For example, she says of Retta, She was acutely aware of mint fragrance, the drift of sandalwood scent from the open desert, and the heat of Dallas's bare arms and chest, all mingled with the deeply stirring odors of new birth still clinging to his hands.

A second quality that enhances the book and adds to its merit for...