I recently finished a fascinating book called Pigtopia, by Kitty Fitzgerald. It has a somewhat bizarre plot with one utterly revolting section, but the writing is devastatingly lovely. Here’s my favorite passage and a great example of the unique voice of the character Jack Plum, a disfigured and isolated man with a tender heart and love of pigkind. This is right after his abusive mother dies:

I gaze at the morningtime’s arrival up on all. The light of it, the warm of it, gliding and glistering along tree branches, grass, puddles, fetching the lifeglow what is from sun energies for all our living. Round nearby the river place, the trees is thick in together and full blossomed. The flowers is mouth wide as if calling tunes to the day coming. There is a silver mist remnant gliding upward for mingling in to the cornflower blueness of sky. Maybe this is soul stuff, energy soul stuff, rising at a forever rest place. In the case that it is, I whisper of goodbyes and make a small wave and I do breathe deep in the scent of Dad which is still strong in that space.

I also read Barack Obama’s first book recently, and I am so excited at the possibility that this man could be our next president. I’ve never in my life had anything close to this level of hope for a political candidate. He truly seems to be the real thing – an intelligent charismatic leader who’s coming from a sincere place, who can garner wide support without oversimplifying issues, and who has deep insight into the racial and religious divides in this country. With his organizing background, he knows how to negotiate diverse interests and build a movement over the long haul. He’s sensible about money but radical about change. It’s hard not to get starry-eyed. I’m supporting him, but I’m trying to brace myself just in case. He’s almost too good to be true.