How flattering, I said, meaning the opposite

Hey you. You. I’m talking to you.

A human living in the world in 2017 who takes things like The Handmaid’s Tale incredibly personally.

A human living in the world in 2017 who is horrified by what has been happening for centuries in a very real, cold-blooded, and methodical way to the Native American community.

A human living in the world in 2017 who cannot believe that people don’t believe in science and climate change.

A human living in the world in 2017 who still finds solace in community and beautiful art.

Run, don’t walk, to your nearest bookstore or library and get yourself a copy of Future Home of the Living God. Then read it, gasping at times with familiarity at times, or horror, or awe of beauty.

What I’m trying to tell you is that this novel is both important and beautiful, and it is rare and wonderful to find both together, so I will sing it from the rooftops. I may never be able to read this book again, because it is so hard, but it was also so easy to live with it in simple understanding.

There is a scene in the book in which a room of women who are strangers to each other to one degree or another single a wordless song together that they all know in their bones. There is a two-page passage about the power and beauty of having a pebble stuck in your shoe. There is a described living nightmare of very near future world in which women are just vessels for their unborn children. Or is that right now?