jamiereadthis
Written on Sep 6, 2013
In amongst the essays on Hemingway, on Twain, on Edward Abbey are the essays on freedom, on marriage, on fulfillment, on all the ways the center cannot hold when we’re consumed by consuming. The former didn’t seem like a digression from the latter. They all spoke— passionately, provokingly, eminently responsibly— to the same crucial theme.
It dissatisfies me in the best way. It decries the culture that demands satisfaction should be our highest aim. I’d rather wrestle with these ideas than unconditionally agree with a dozen others.