The fact that it is an intimidating read, the fact that it is a story over 1000 pages narrated in eight unbroken sentences and no paragraph breaks, the fact that Ducks, Newburyport is hypnotic for the rhythm it develops, the frequent laugh-out-loud humour and the moving way it builds a portrait of the life of an Ohio housewife and her many anxieties living in America today, the fact that her story radiates a warm familiarity as we come to intimately know her sweeping stream of consciousness while baking a mountain of pies to consume by her family and sell, the fact that she is like every man and every woman who mull over a whole range of subjects from her personal past to her immediate family life, caring for four children to local news to political divisions in America to global environmental concerns, the fact that novel’s title refers to an incident when the narrator’s mother almost drowned when she was a child running towards some ducks in a pond, the fact that she is affected by this as clearly she would never be in this world, the fact that we are all sitting ducks because of gun violence and terrorism in America, the fact that the narrator’s monologue might sometimes seems jumbled and nonsensical, it is also compelling and enticing.