literary break-up letters. This fascinating article in The Atlantic features excerpts and background information from eight different writers penning their parting words to lovers, spouses, more-than-friends. Luminaries include Simone de Beauvoir (whose line I used in my post title), Virginia Woolf, Edith Wharton, Oscar Wilde, Mary Wollstonecraft, and more. They are wistful and so very real. Just the kind of real I needed at this time of cold, quiet beginnings. I hope your year is full of possibilities. And if there must be partings, let them be well-written.
There's really very little to say, isn't there? I hope you are well, wherever you are. I hope that your loved ones are. I hope that you're finding small ways to stay afloat, to remain connected to something, someone, someplace (real or fictional) that sustains you. Dark and difficult times, indeed. I've rather been holding on to this review. I felt so much, so quickly, so irrevocably for this book that it rapidly became hard to talk about to anyone who hadn't read it. And so I hope I can do it justice, just barely enough justice that, if you haven't, you'll run right out and do so. Now is the perfect time. I feel strongly that this book is what you need in your life at this moment. And so. You might want to prepare yourselves. I'm about to wax rhapsodic. But first, and introductory excerpt: At the end of that session, Fay said, What if it's not what happened with this boy you regret, it's you? It's the you who you left behind. It's