Married women tell me I’m making the worst mistake of my life and this is a terrible age to be divorcing: ‘You’ll never get another man.’ A very sophisticated, honey-highlighted blonde divorced mother from my daughter’s school confides in me outside the swimming pool: ‘When you’d rather live in a tent in a field than in your nice house with your husband, that’s when you’re ready for divorce.’

This book is human and, hence, non-humane. Whatever "humane" means. What I'm trying to say is that this book contains loads of insight and reflections on "the human condition" from the two lead characters in the book, which are two brothers that most in white, western society can relate to.

And there are many a reflection culled from the mind of people.

He imagines her dreams as pale and buoyant, bright even in extremis; no lurking invisible terrors, no shriek of annihilation, no innocent-seeming heads turning to reveal black holes instead of eyes, or teeth like razors. He hopes that’s true.

Eventually, he’ll meet someone younger. Men do. He’ll be tormented about it, there’s not a trace of cruelty in him, which means she’ll have to nurse him through his betrayal of her, bolster him, assure him that his happiness matters more to her than anything, which will, of course, be a lie.

I enjoyed Cunningham's way with language, and his style almost rocked me to a feeling of comfort that stayed with me throughout the book, even though I thought it went a bit downhill towards the end; I got bored without knowing why, but the style of the book, the "sound" of it, made it OK.

All in all: not as good as Cunningham's [b:By Nightfall|8100015|By Nightfall|Michael Cunningham|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1405855363s/8100015.jpg|12872162] but that would be strange; they are very different books.