Recently, I picked up books by two authors who were new to me and was delighted to discover their way with words. Both capture the sacred in contexts easily dismissed as profane or mundane.
Laurie Colwin died four years after writing this slim novel in the 1980s. It's an unexpectedly lovely and refreshing take on an affair.
Niall Williams' subject is a forgotten (and imaginary) Irish village. His work steeps me in the unfamiliar while stopping me in my tracks with descriptions of the universal.
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