The Woman in the Library

by Sulari Gentill

“There are a lot of scared, sick, and angry people sleeping in beds every night,” Whit observes.

The manuscript is a bit wild—I wonder if the bus is going too fast, careening out of control. A fleeting sadness that there is no character to hold my place. I feel somehow left out, even though the decision, the omission, was mine.

And in our mutual, if marginal, inebriation there is a demonstration of trust, in each other, and the fledging friendship between us all.

Perhaps that’s why writers starve in garrets—because the literary muse is a sadistic fascist.

“Words have meaning. I suppose who the author is, what he’s done might change that meaning.”

a story is about leading a reader to meaning. The revelation is theirs, but we show them the way. I suppose the morality of the writer influences whether you can trust what they are showing you.”

“A scream is the most human and primal of things, a siren call which binds all those in hearing to help, as it did us to each other and to Caroline.”

And being in love is a bit like finding God. You start to act on blind faith.