Finally reading Lidia Yuknavitch's The Book of Joan. It's amazing, of course. Beautiful, disturbing, steely, and meticulous. Here's a passage:
"Two things have always ruptured up and through hegemony: art and bodies. That is how art has preserved its toehold in our universe. Where there was poverty, there was also a painting someone stared at until it filled them with grateful tears. Where there was genocide, there was a song that refused to quiet. Where a planet was forsaken, there was someone telling a story with their last breath, and someone else carrying it like DNA, or star junk."
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