Noah’s Compass
I forget how much I love Anne Tyler. I never think to list her as a favorite writer, but I always enjoy her writing. I never anticipate her work only to be disappointed (see Irving, Last Night at Twisted River). And I re-read her novels like other people eat comfort food. Saint Maybe was the first Tyler novel I read and I don’t even know how many times I have read it since. Each book is like my best and oldest pair of jeans. There is a comfort that is somehow unexpected and yet reassuring.
Noah’s Compass was exactly what I needed. Not much happens, but it doesn’t need to. It is a quiet, nice story, that made me bawl unexpectedly. What else could I ask for in a book? I now want to curl up under a nice, old quilt and re-read all 18 of her novels.
