When Oasis’s “Don’t Look Back in Anger” came on, we paused dancing along with the rest of the crowd, but the entire room sang along to the trifling matter of Sally’s waiting—this was all we collectively had, we knew no protest songs, had little to protest—and I felt a swelling in my chest, a surge of joy flowering out through my limbs;
Both a good line and an encapsulation of why this book felt like the wrong one to devote time to in this era.
