Status Updates From In the Heart of the Heart o...

(...) The wintertime had finally got them all, and I really did hope that the kid was as warm as I was now, warm inside and out, burning up, inside and out, with joy.

Then Pa took the gun away and put it in his pocket. He had his shotgun hanging easily over his left arm, but he slapped me, and I bit my tongue. Pa was spitting, I turned and ran down the path we'd come, putting one arm over my face to ease the stinging.

I heard the dripping clearly, and I heard Hans swallow. I heard the water and the whiskey fall. I listened to the frost on the window melt to the sill and drop into the sink. Hans poured whiskey into his glass. I looked past Hans, and Pa was watching from the doorway. His nose and eyes were red, his feet in red slippers.
What's this about the Pedersen kid? he said.
Ma stood behind him with a mop.

Loved The Pedersen Kid. Claustrophobic and painful and felt like the worst days of having a family except that it was their everyday. Everything about it was surprising. Mrs. Mean, however, not my favorite. Beautiful language for its own sake, which is valid, but I don’t personally find myself responding to it often.