I had always thought that words can do anything. Explain and convey every feeling. If there was no word to describe it, it was because you could not find the right one. It was on you, not on the words. It has only been recently that I realized that words can and do fall short. They can not describe the grief that I have felt. So I suppose they can not describe the extent of love either.
Finding Time to Read for Fun
As I’ve gotten older, busier, and generally more stressed, I’ve noticed something sad about myself: I seldom read for fun anymore. When I was a growing up in the truly riveting hubbub of Morro Bay, California I would make a conscious effort to sit myself down and read a gosh darn novel or even just … Continue reading Finding Time to Read for Fun
A Moment of Reflection, with David Foster Wallace
Four of us sit on the back stoop of our cabin, at the precipice between forest and not, with the dim glow of the porch light illuminating only half faces. David Foster Wallace’s first novel, The Broom of the System, lays open in front of us. The cover has been stripped from its spine—exchanged between … Continue reading A Moment of Reflection, with David Foster Wallace
BERKELEY FICTION REVIEW 