Months later, I finally finished Christina Stead’s 500 page tome “The Man Who Loved Children” (1940)- and the title really does refer to love, without any unsettling irony worthy of today’s salacious headlines.

Herewith, some gems*:

“Sam heard nothing but the crepitations of the arboreal night.”

“The tempests of July and the swamped earth and flooded rivers had come to wash away the sorrows of Henny: headstones sank in the graveyard, and the new earth piled over her fell in. Towards the end of July, it was as if Henny too had stormed, but in another room in the universe, which was now under lock and key.”

“Everyone had an outline, and brilliant, solid colors.”

(*Besides, I had to read it. It’s among my favourite author’s (Anne Tyler) favourites.)

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