I could really never read this, and I’m way too young to be troubled by it. But I am. It took me a long time to recover from Everyman and we’ll see similar sentiments when I record my thoughts on The Maytrees. No matter how amazing it is, I could never get through Sarah Manguso’s poetic memoir about terminal illness.
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A long time ago in Kentucky, a man took Andrew Sean Greer’s grandmother for a drive. The man, a family friend, told her something she didn’t want to hear. During the war he and her husband had been lovers.
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I had no idea that Terry Pratchett had Alzheimer’s. A friend of mine and her husband met me at the People Come From All Over the Country to Stand in Front of Me When I’m Trying to Meet Joyce Carol Oates Festival, and her husband spent his time hanging out with Terry Pratchett. He seemed like a pretty great guy. It made me wish I was into fantasy/sci-fi stuff. Unfortunately, this whole thing just made me want to read that book about Iris Murdoch’s slow deterioration.
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What happens when a public school teacher gets her students interested in literature for a change? Yep.
