At the end of [a:Valeria Luiselli|4405738|Valeria Luiselli|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1419533843p2/4405738.jpg]'s [b:Lost Children Archive|40245130|Lost Children Archive|Valeria Luiselli|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1547386427l/40245130.SY75.jpg|62525285] is a list of works cited that made me feel as dumb as I am because I haven't read Ezra Pound, T.S. Eliot, Augusto Monterroso, Galway Kinnell, Juan Rulfo, Rilke, and Jerzy Andrzejewski. It made me wonder if I was missing a lot of the book's message, like that in the nearly twenty page single sentence near the end. Despite this, I found it wonderfully written and highly topical and overall well worth reading.

In the slow float of midmorning light, the children play the Apache game with their father. The cottage is at the crest of a hill in a high valley that undulates down toward the main road, invisible to us. No houses can be seen, just farmland and grassland, sprinkled here and there with wildflowers we do not know the names of. They are white and violet, and I make out a few orange patches. Farther away in the distance, a confederacy of cows grazes, looking quietly conspiratorial.