Buckley drew back and stared at my father’s creased face; the fine bright spots of tears at the corners of his eyes. He nodded seriously and kissed my father’s cheek. Something so divine that no one up in heaven could have made it up; the care a child took with an adult.
Alice Sebold, The Lovely Bones
I wrote the following paragraph a month ago. One paragraph. Unedited. The only other writing has been lists for grocery shopping. I’ve read 1/3 of the novel. Sloth and procrastination rain and reign everywhere.
I’ve been reading The Lovely Bones by Anne Sebold. Again I’m late to the party (its copyright is 2002). I knew nothing about the book, found it in a jumble of books left in the casita by others. I think it’s magnificent writing, insightful, tender, its voice true to its narrator, with just the right number of evocative turns of phrase or sentences to keep one reading, characters constructed so perfectly not even a mo’ai from Easter Island could destroy its equilibrium, could catapult the character from a teeter-totter into a trajectory.
God Only Knows
Next year marks the 50th anniversary of the release of the Beach Boys’ God Only Knows, one of the most gorgeous rock songs.