Fiction is a friendly oasis – Young Adult fiction, in particular, for me.  I try to read Adult fiction but find, as of late, I put it down part way – perhaps because it perpetuates life’s complexities that negotiate on a daily basis. I want relief.

BUT – I was picking up a book in the Framingham library and on display was a gold hardcover book with a Van Gogh-ish ‘Scream/Starry Night’ print on the cover. ‘Their Eyes Were Watching God’ by Zora Neale Hurston. I opened to the first page and found a writer who knew the human soul. Those writers I can read:

Ships at a distance have every man’s wish on board.For some they come in with the tide. For others they sail forever on the horizon, never out of sight, never landing until the Watcher turns his eyes away in resignation, his dreams mocked to death by Time. That is the life of men.

Now, women forget all those things they don’t want to remember, and remember everything they don’t want to forget. The dream is the truth. Then they act and do things accordingly.”