Sublime

unspooled

Moments that seem inconsequential until you have a reason to hold on to them, arrange them in a pattern.

One of the mirages that resides in many books today, of course, for him and for many of us, is the idea of its author being a “middle class writer.” That appellation seems somewhat fantastical, something borne of secret inheritances and side hustles. Becoming one has become the literary version of the illusory American Dream. It rhymes with the “do

and Lee K. Abbott’s “Living Alone in Iota” to showcase voice.

That Thomas had worked for the Chronicle since 1976 was easily established, as was the fact that he’d published three brief novels since that date. Out of a sense of delicacy Carleton never mentioned that he owned all three of these, and found them elegant and elliptical, couched in prose that had the cadence of the King James Bible, and concerned

A lonely girl living in a world surrounded only by ghosts. Nothing reminded her of her own life more.

We would have continued living, reminded of each other when a song came on during a movie, or on the radio, or whatever unforeseeable technology delivered us beauty.

perfunctory