Wednesday, April 23, 2014


An hour or so ago I finished reading Home by Marilynne Robinson. I knew it was a good book, and then it made me go and cry at the end of it. The kind of crying where your eyes are shut and the tears still come, and you hold yourself still to keep grasping control. Control that wants to leave you for a while and come back too late. Haven't read a good book in too long. I got it from a thrift store a few weeks ago for 50 cents.
It surprised me how late I'd catch on to just what happened in Home. The book kept surprising me. I devoted my evenings to it for 3 days. It gave me a new appreciation of the necessity of the Civil Rights Movement, and it wasn't even about that.

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