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188 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1987
In the fall one finally takes there is a desire to restore wonder to familiar objects. Old things resonate in new ways, moving so that what was statuary when life was simply being led is suddenly projected like a film on the screen of an eye’s whiteness. Yet while it may be true that an unexamined life is not worth living I am not convinced studied life is much of an improvement. To realize one has enacted a ritual does not, it seems to me, soften the slightest injury. It only causes one to ask, perhaps for the first time, who was it that suffered most and who was reborn because of it. Knowing, somewhere in us, that our lives are ruefully laboratorial we are nonetheless vigilant to free them, keep them moving, keep them ours. Even the worst catastrophe, because we have survived it, becomes just another part of our experience. In fact, do we not consider ourselves stronger because of it, as though our characters fed on disaster? In a short time we make the best out of the worst and may finally believe that we survived because of our character.