For the past two or three days, I've been reading this.
And it is good. A book has not touched me quite like this in a long time.
And since, I've kind of been researching furiously about trauma and memory and the-sometimes-long-forgotten Dresden bombings. I'm permanently astounded by the depth and breadth of these things. By what they mean both nationally and personally--by what gets forgotten in the rubble of these things and of these new atrocities that move and shake and overshadow. I'm grateful for both the absences of these words and the presence of feeling--for that new perspective.
I'm kind of on board the Foer bandwagon, now.