Over the years friends and non-friends have used the following words to describe me: Detached, aloof, abstruse (I actually like that one) and cold. I'm sure there are more, but these serve to make my point.
The point is, given this, it must be something that this book made me quietly cry on the subway during rush-hour on the way to work. I started What I Loved mostly curious, fell out with it about 60 pages in, and next thing she had me weeping. After that I was suckered. I stayed up until 3am to finish it last night.
Image of Hustvedt byportrait photographer, Marion Ettlinger (via)