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120 pages, Kindle Edition
Published April 29, 2025
Beautifully crafted, powerful stories that made me stop and reflect, and remember. Many of them are the kind of stories that trigger memories of similar situations. This collection is one that will have the reader spend as much time thinking as actually reading.
Orrin—not devout, or not in a Catholic sense—is conflicted about the nature of this legacy. He has no notion of how to care for a saint. Even a small one. Does not even believe. Not in any one God, attended by angels and casting his divine judgement down from On High. If he has gods, they are many, and they themselves tend—are the kind who get their hands dirty and wet, who are the Dirt and the Wet. And yes, the Dry. Terrible Dry, who doubtless has no comprehension nor will towards terror. Just is. As are the gods Salt and Reef and Ant Mound. The birds who tell him whether he is or isn't home.
Still. Catholic or not. You don't turn away a saint. (p.5)
In the years that followed, Kaspar Isaksen took up the task of methodically drinking himself to death. His letters came clogged with remorse for fates he'd not learnt of until after the war. For instance how, during the occupation, his former charges had been rounded up on their cultivated strip of coast and loaded onto small boats, and the boats towed out to sea, shelled and sunk. Thus leprosy was removed from the island. (p.27, see Japanese WW2 atrocities on occupied Nauru.)