![]() I need the books I read to give me signs of that.ĭesperation-the news fills me with it. I need characters that help me believe that we human beings are capable of deep thinking, tenderness, complication, problems solved, humanity. I insist on purposeful, on stories that sizzle in. There is a lake that holds no water in California, a husband murdered by the cops, so many lost Syrians that we are losing count, disappearing birds, confounding politics, Salvadoran children running toward a country that will turn them back, a comatose boy in a hospital bed, a mother’s young son going blind and if, in this time, in this place, you ask me to understand narratives built merely to sell, stories packaged merely to distract, books sold merely on the basis of hollow hype-well, I can’t. There is a girl in the Gaza strip paralyzed neck to foot and (also) orphaned. I am a bore, I am a scold, I am no fun, excuse me and but: ![]() ![]() ![]() I need them to persuade me of their relevance, to yank me by the hair, to stop me in my whirling tracks, to somehow give me faith (still, still) in this planet rotten with injustice. ![]()
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