I haven’t read the book, Kathleen Alcott’s novel Infinite Home, and this excerpt in Electric Literature‘s Recommended Reading is good, but what struck me was the opening of Catherine Lacey’s introduction:
Grief as a home, or better yet, a place to dwell–a way to turn loss into something closely held. It reminded me of what I’ve always thought about paranoia, that it’s a way of personalizing the uncontrollable outside forces of the world, creating meaning where there’s none, by putting oneself at the center of an indifferent universe. And grief, as Lacey characterizes it, would do something similar, domesticate–take in, really–the hurt that’s otherwise simply and coldly visited upon you.
