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“I can tell you that my friend broke her arm the first day of school. She is still wearing a cast and a sling, though the cast is supposed to come off in a day or so. She intends to keep wearing the sling after that because she feels it lends her an air of tragedy. Also she can hide snacks in it.�
But that list! Just the victims� names, ages, and hometowns. It told you almost nothing, yet so eloquently. Here are the facts, the list seemed to say. Break your heart on them as you will.
Energy spent on worrying about a future you can’t control is energy wasted. It doesn’t do anybody one bit of good.
In your book, Frank is never given any kind of diagnosis. Is that on purpose? A: Look, all of us are puzzles. I grew up in the South, and there are more nuts in my family that you’d find in a holiday box of pecan brittle. Then I lived in New York City for more than a decade, a place that’s Mecca for the willfully eccentric. In California, I came to know lots of adults who couldn’t tell you the color of my eyes if their lives depended on it, who recoiled if you touched them, and who went on a little too long about their pet obsessions. Vintage breadboxes, anybody? But these were people who had
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