The isolation, the fear, the breaking of actual communication, and the lack of touch draws together Camus’s worlds and our reality.
Without awe, how can we dream up a different reality? Without wonder, the dark matter of possibility, how do we find the courage to zoom in on our unbearable humanity?
Many of the people we encounter in the pages of this book do not identify as smugglers but as workers of various kinds.
[The novel’s] layering surpasses anything like theme or plot and suffuses into a kind of aesthetic ethos which justifies the old saying: The novelist picks up where the historian has to stop.
This collection advocates for attention to dreams, the uncanny, the mundane, and the moon as if now is the time to devote ourselves to that possibility rather than, like Edgar, letting our life pass before us.