Mary Karr. Now, you’re either drawn to Karr’s “black-belt sinner” honesty or you’re not; there’s rarely anyone on the fence. This is how the chapter titled “God Shopping” begins in her 2009 memoir Lit: If you’d told me even a year before I started taking Dev to church regular that I’d wind up whispering my sins in the confessional or on my knees saying the rosary, I would’ve laughed myself cockeyed. More likely pastime? Pole dancer. International spy. Drug mule. Assassin. One Sunday I’m eating a bagel with a smear and reading the paper when Dev, age eight, intensely blue-eyed in his Power
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