a matter of life and death.

a few years ago. after reading a visit from the goon squad. and many other average books in the franzen-wallace family. i think i landed on "the marriage plot" by jeffrey eugenides. it was incredibly disappointing to read such a good book and feel nothing. i think all the feeling eeked out of my eyes. and oozed up from my chest. and held down my arms. and leaned into my temples. when i read cloud atlas by david mitchell. and so i gave up reading for a year. and that was 5 years ago. and i haven't been able to get through a single book since (other than the luminaries by eleanor catton and tenth of december by george saunders).

so... this past weekend. i forgot about middle brow for about fourteen hours. and read the play "the pillowman" but martin mcdonagh. and i couldn't believe my brain.

i don't want to give it away. but, just to give you a quick sense, it almost answers the question: why does goddess let bad things happen? ... never forsake darkness. for beauty often emerges, in one way or another, from the darkest depths.

i just may start reading again.

a rendition of pillowman by the t. schreiber studio