There are certain books that, from time to time, beckon to be reread. They might reach out with a simple whiff of nostalgia that conjures up the setting of a certain chapter. They might speak out with the need to be quoted, their words rushing forth to accentuate a point or inspire a colleague. They might even stand out through the lens of current events, proclaiming their relevance as the tragic history within their pages repeats itself.
These past few weeks, however, for the first time in my life, one of these dog-eared, highlighted, coffee-stained literary mainstays of my bookshelf did more than reach out or even stand out.
It cried out. Continue reading in the Orange County Register.