Southern Man (Penn Cage #7)

by Greg Iles

Losing your first parent is a stunning blow, jarring to the soul. But losing your last truly orphans you, unmooring you from the past, destabilizing your sense of self.

For if a man wasn’t willing to kill to be king . . . He had no business on the throne.

I’m lucky to have my daughter to ease my grief, but losing your mother means losing a kind of unconditional love that no one can replace. The eye you were the apple of has gone out. Whether you acknowledged it or not, that love served as emotional bedrock for all the years you had it. But when it’s truly gone . . . you understand.

With that new image must come a new nation, one that lives up to its founding philosophy. And I know only one thing about the birth of nations: they don’t happen quietly, under anesthesia. Nations are born—or reborn—in blood and fire.