Portrait of a Marriage

by Pearl Buck.

I'm sitting here recovering.  I never weep for books.  For years I haven't even been reading much.  But I picked this up at a book sale a few weeks ago, and started it this morning on the way to work (my sister was driving).  I read it at break, and lunch, and break, and when I got home from work I didn't get past the first couch in the front door, but sat down and read the rest of the book for another three hours.  It's not a fairy tale, and yet it is.  It's a genuine fairy tale, in all its small tragedies and wonders of beauty.  Some folks were outside choosing a kitten to take off our hands.  My sisters asked if I was going to the coffee shop to play Dutch Blitz, and I said Maybe.  Mom called "supper" and I didn't come.  And as the last chapters wound up, I just sat there with tears running down my face, and they are still, and I'm not sure exactly why. 

But it feels so good to cry.