All of us can reset the titles of our own lives
There they stand on my bookcase directly in front of my desk, books that stare at me intently, silently. Am I paranoid, or is there an accusation in those stares? I have not looked at them in years, meaning to read them some day, but that day never arrived, and there they are, published years ago, ignored by me, still staring at me, wondering.
These are the books, most of which have dramatic one-word titles:
Loyalty, by Felton (Simon & Schuster); Regret, by Landman (Oxford); Revenge, by Blumenfeld (Simon & Schuster); Marriage, by George & Elshtain (Spence Publ.); Sin and Fear, by Delumeau (St. Martin’s Press); Chaos, by Gleick (Viking); G-d, by Patrick Glynn (Prima Publ.); Betrayal, by Pryce-Jones (Encounter); Idolatry, by Halbertal (Harvard); Desire, by Irvine (Oxford); Happiness, by McMahon (Grove Press).
They were placed in the bookcase at random over the years, having been sent by various publishers, and there they stand side by side, shoulder to shoulder, handsomely jacketed but unread. If they were able to speak, what would they say?
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