"A spare, sharp memoir about the speed with which a comfortable existence can be blighted by grief.” —Bee Wilson, The Sunday Times (London)
My cousin’s stories of being a Detroit cop could have come straight out of an opera.
When I think about Darwin’s wasps, I can put to rest my belief in God. It’s the afterlife that is hard to give up.
“A woman without a child is defined by what she does not have.”
“This time around we are in charge: making our own guest list, which does not include Every Living Thing.”
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