Moonglow

by Michael Chabon

But the truth was that anger required no trigger or pretext. It was sourceless, a part of him, like yearning, curiosity, or sadness. Anger was his birthright. It was hard for him to surrender that longed-for crunch of bone.

Was it even possible to forgive the dead? Was forgiveness an emotion, or a transaction that required a partner?

Keeping secrets was the family business. But it was a business, it seemed to me, that none of us had ever profited from.

Chabon argues that by being almost completely fiction, the book manages to get at essential truths about himself that memoir would not have been able to access.

It was called magical thinking, I told her. Children who believe they are to blame for their parents’ misfortunes believe they have the power to abate them. My mother thought about it. I waited for her to congratulate me on my insight. “Where’s the magical part?” she said.