When the Stars Go Dark

by Paula McLain

“Things have been hard on you. I know that. You’ve had to be tough to get through it, but toughness isn’t the same as strength, Anna.”

There’s an old ghost story about that, I remember, how the devil steals souls by asking for them openly. He isn’t a thief, but a master manipulator. The real danger, or so the story goes, isn’t in the devil himself, but in not knowing you have a choice to turn him away.

“It’s not what you carry, but how you can learn to carry it. You need to heal yourself. Your child self too, Anna. Make room for her. Find a way to let her in.”

The world needs an army of Wandas—strong, sarcastic, unafraid women who say what they think and act straightforwardly, without apology or permission. Women who roar instead of flinch.

No matter how many times I’ve seen the remains of a murder victim, it never feels like less than a rape of the psyche. The human mind wasn’t built to make sense of this.

“Dreams can tell us a lot of things,” I go on. “They’re a kind of map of the inner life. Sometimes thinking of who we might someday be is the only way we can get through the reality of who we actually are.”

“The people we love never leave us, Anna. You know that already. That’s what I mean by spirit. I mean love.”