This month I’ve been posting about Love. This is why.
For my final post on Valentine’s Eve, I’m posting one of my favourite passages about love from one of my favourite books, The Art of Fielding by Chad Harbach. If you haven’t read it, you should.
“Sometimes a cloudless swatch of sky would blow past the moon, and Pella could see the outline of Mike’s face in slightly sharper relief. It was strange the way he loved her: a sidelong and almost casual love, as if loving her were simply a matter of course, too natural to mention. Like their first meeting on the steps of the gym, when he hardly so much as glanced at her. With David and every guy before David, what passed for love had always been eye to eye, nose to nose; she felt watched, observed, like the prize inhabitant of a zoo, and she wound up pacing, preening, watching back, to fit the part. Whereas Mike was always beside her. She would stand at the kitchen window and look out at the quad, at the Melville statue and beyond to the beach and the rolling lake, and realise that Mike, for however long, had been standing beside her, staring at the same thing.”