Judas

by Amos Oz. I finished it a few days ago, I liked it, gave it three out of five stars, which is my standard score for unremarkable good books, but I’m finding the book hovering over my head and refusing to go away, which is what happens to me when I happen to read a remarkable good book.

Perhaps it is, with that soft but indelible impression of unavoidable sadness that leaves upon you, about how human life is and cannot help not being sorrow and loss.

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