Dinah Lenney objects her life. Not objects as in no, as in against, as in protest. Objects as in things, as in the tangible. In her collection of essays, The Object Parade, Lenney takes objects to define different moments in her life, to metaphor them, to bring new insight to old stories. “Things, all kinds—ordinary, extraordinary—tether us, don’t they, to place and people and the past, to feeling and thought, to each other and ourselves, to some admittedly elusive understanding of the passage of time” (xiv). Because the essays are not in chronological order, the stories incited by objects such as a flattened spoon, a 1929 Steinway baby grand piano, human ashes, a breakfront, and a metronome weave with and circle around each other. They tumble together to create connections. These objects not only connect her to her past, but to the idea of a past. She states, “Thirty years ago, just out of college, I bought this jacket in that tiny junk shop, which means it was already soaked in secrets, reeking of the past” (106). What Lenney is discovering are the ways in which an object “smells like memory” (170). More than musings, though, Lenney’s stories interact with each other in a maze of meaning. A Mobius strip of memory. What Lenney has created in The Object Parade is a linguistically rich meditation on all types of human connection—both with ourselves and each other.