Blankets
This was epic and intimate and sacred and secular all at the same time. Liked it much better than Habibi, probably because it was so personal. But it's like pulling a bandage away from a raw wound . . . you can only look at it so long before your stomach turns. Craig Thompson's brain is like a raw wound and it puts forth beauty and sadness in equal measures. I probably won't ever read this again -- you know, because of the sad -- but I'm glad I read it the once.