Books to me have, and will likely remain, exercises in empathy. The splitting of consciousness that tells you “be Bigger Thomas,” “be Katniss Everdeen,” “be Quentin Compson,” “be Emma Bovary,” “be Jean Valjean,” “be Tom Sawyer,” “be Janie Crawford,” “be George Smiley,” “be Rand al-Thor,” and be yourself also.
I’ve finally started reading
(
Read more... )