It's one of those all-too-rare highlights. For me, the only other authors I feel similarly about, who resonate as deeply, are Khaled Hosseini and Simon Van Booy. I must read more to find more.
Like people or places which "get" you, and which you feel you "get" right back, this book is not everyone's cup of tea, but she writes so beautifully and, I'm surprised how unusual this is, about pain and love and loss and longing and all those wonderful ghastly human things we all endure or pine for or try to catch or avoid in a way which honours us.
I long to be as wise and strong and true as this woman and to use that wisdom and strength and truth for some good purpose.
Is it so very hard to be this honest, as honest as she is, about life and what it is to be human?
Is it so very hard to be useful to others in the way she is?
And is it better to just get on with life privately and productively than to pick at the edges of people and tell them what you see underneath?
All I know - and reading her book makes it somehow concrete rather than a mere dream or fancy - is I want to do what she does.
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