“You can know a thing to death and be for all purposes completely ignorant of it. A man can know his father, or his son, and there might still be nothing between them but loyalty and love and mutual incomprehension.”
It's perfect. And it perfectly described my weekend. That's one of the things I love about great writing -- it makes you feel less alone in the world.
By the by, before I picked up Gilead, I was halfway through a beach read by a writer I've enjoyed in the past. I switched books because the beach read kept making my brain go, "Really? You think a character would say/do that?" Used to be, I'd finish a book regardless of how I felt about it -- as though I had made a sacred commitment to the author. No more.
Interesting how our approach to creative works changes as we change ...
