The first time you meet Sailor Cassidy, she is fishing a half-smoked joint out of the tab of an empty Coors Light can while a tiny imaginary miner hammers away at the inside of her skull. By the second page you already know two things: there will be sugary cocktails involved, and Kennedy Weible is the kind of writer who notices the cigarette butts in the puddle behind a bar and treats them like supporting characters. Dirty Myrtle by Kennedy Weible begins with a hangover and never quite shakes it off, which turns out to be the point. The Grand Strand is a place that wakes up every day a little wrecked, and the book inhabits that mood with a steadiness that feels lived-in rather than performed. Set in the days leading into Thanksgiving, this is a novel about a town that vacationers think they know and locals understand differently. There are Confederate flag beach towels in the windows of every souvenir shop and McMansions built with what the contractor calls budget that should have …