The Wrecker’s Yard, by Iain Macdonald
None of this needs you; / all of it goes on without you.
Bittersweet, melancholy, claiming joy from the quotidian, and praising it all; leaven with a spoonful of humor, and you’ve got Iain Macdonald’s new collection, which does that nifty writer’s trick of offering the concrete detail of the utterly specific and personal, in order to point us back to the universal.
DISCLOSURE A good friend claims that any meaningful relationship requires total honesty, and I consider how completely I disagree and how strongly I believe that only the blessing of small, daily deceits keeps more of us from killing those whom we claim to love. But, of course, I tell her none of this.