Dead, We Are Revealed In

Jenny Offill's Dept. Of Speculation Resembles No Book I've Read Before. If I Tell You That It's Funny, And Moving, And True; That It's As Compact And Mysterious As A Neutron; That It Tells A Profound Story Of Love And Parenthood While Invoking (among Others) Keats, Kafka, Einstein, Russian Cosmonauts, And Advice For The Housewife Of 1896, Will You Please Simply Believe Me, And Read It?

You Can't Find Peace By Avoiding Life.

A Stray Fact: Insects Are Not Drawn To Candle Flames, They Are Drawn To The Light On The Far Side Of The Flame, They Go Into The Flame And Sizzle To Nothingness Because They're So Eager To Get To The Light On The Other Side.

We Become The Stories We Tell Ourselves

She Is Overtaken By A Sensation Of Unbeing. There Is No Other Word For It.