This is one of the most profoundly moving books I have ever read.
The better a book is, the harder I find to review it. (I still haven’t finished my review of Hannah Tinti’s The Good Thief.) What could I possibly say that would do justice to this book? I’m kind of blown away that McCullers was only 23 when she wrote it. The isolation she describes is a universal condition but the extent to which she understands its varied manifestations is a triumph of empathy. There is so much in this book which rings true and it is all so beautifully written that I found myself in awe every time I picked it up.