As children, Tam and her older brother were swimming when she suffered her first epileptic seizure. He pulled her from the water and was crowned a hero. Tam was labeled "disabled" and never swam again. And so began 30 years of vigilance, never allowing her body to betray her, never allowing her brother or her family or anyone else to influence her path. Now, in middle age, a lifetime's worth of control has taken its toll. Exhausted, she heads to Maine where, while working on a genealogy project, she falls under the spell of two dead women: an ancestor, Mary Catherine, who died at 33; the other, the town ghost. Through their cloistered, tragic lives Tam relives her own life over and over -- until a distant cousin forces her to see herself in a new light. Tam's quest to transcend self-imposed limitations is superbly crafted and richly satisfying.

While in many ways reaffirming the mythic dimension of being on the road already romanticized in American pop and folk culture, "Revelation Countdown" also subtly undermines that view. These stories project onto the open road not the nirvana of personal freedom but rather a type of freedom more closely resembling loss of control. Being in constant motion and passing through new environments destabilizes life, casts it out of phase, heightens perception, skews reactions. Every little problem is magnified to overwhelming dimensions; events segue from slow motion to fast forward; background noises intrude, causing perpetual weehour insomnia. Imagination flourishes, often as an enemy: people suddenly discover that they never really understood their travelling companions. The formerly stable line of their lives veers off course. In such an atmosphere, the title "Revelation Countdown", borrowed from a roadside sign in Tennessee, proves prophetic: It may not arrive at 7:30, but revelation will inevitably find the traveller.