Stone's work reads as if it were composed to the tune of clanging blacksmiths and left to cool under the stars somewhere far from land. This is the conundrum of good writing. It can take you anywhere.
Cash’s memoir is the story of a man whose penchant for letters suggests a desire to hold on to the present. Sealing up the envelope means ending the letter: allowing our fantasies and stories to be finished, read, and judged.
I’m wondering, when will there be an intervention, a disruption, a reckoning with the current trajectory we’ve taken? Perhaps it begins with the 2020 elections and becomes something we enact daily.
An excerpt from a book Booklist called "a brilliantly conceived and crafted coming-of-age novel of ideas, replete with literary and philosophical references."