I just finished Cormac McCarthy's "The Crossing." So grateful to have done so on a beautiful and warm day. There is no cheer in that book. None at all. It's a book that sort of scrapes all the marrow out of the bones of life and feeds it to a dying man. Or something like that. Almost all bleakness and despair, one tragedy after another. I wanted to lift Billy out of that world and give him a chance to find some peace, maybe even happiness. Aaagh! It is so troubling to peak into the monotony of suffering that can plague a life. It frightens me, here in this rosy slice of paradise. None of it makes any sense. Why is one person born to pain and poverty while another is born to pleasure and abundance? We are teeming with Spring. There are blossoms everywhere. I just cannot ever appreciate it enough...
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