The reading part of re-ordering my head is goin well, as I have found several books that held me fast, which is the difficult part. Thomas Szalay’s Flesh was “cunningly made,” as they say, some Hemingway-esq minimalist language and disaffected male narrator in service of a pretty complex moral tale. The ending is perfect, I spent a time starting at the wall after the last sentence. Also read Michael Crummey’s Galore and also The Adversary, much more gothically lush than Szalay, just enough magical realism and Faulkner place witchery to drive the well told, meandering stories (in Newfoundland, excellent). And then I’m nearly done with Helen DeWitt’s Last Samurai, which I read in preparation for reading her current book, Your Name Here. The most experimental of the which I often have limited patience for, but she pulls it off magnificently, I see why so many lauded this when it came out. Thanks for writing these books, all of you, it gives me hope.