Despite its many blind spots, he’d never imagined the US as anything other than extraordinary, unique, the Alphonso mango of nations. Now, for the first time, it seemed . . . ordinary. He now lived in a country riven by the same tribalism and hatreds that haunted lesser nations. He had always seen American democracy as a giant oak tree, with roots that went more than two hundred years deep. But it turned out the roots were shallow, held in place by custom and good manners, and all it took to lay them bare was one man who refused to play by the rules of civility and democracy.
