It’s a book in which a profound commitment to understanding faith AND a plethora of scorching sex scenes are each well-written and intrinsic to the story. That something about it makes you more human, a better human, a human able to love and trust and hope in a world where those things are hard. Praying when you don’t feel like it, when you don’t know who or what is listening it’s doing the actions with the trust that something about it matters. I understand that belief isn’t a coat to be put on and worn in all kinds of weather, even the blistering sun.īelief is this. I understand that hate was never, ever the opposite of belief. I understand how you can convict God of terrible crimes and then go to evening prayer. The words are there anyway, just as the humanness inside me is there anyway, and for one clear, shimmering moment, I understand. The words don’t care about my feelings, about my petty sulks and mortal frustrations.

But it responds to the old words like trees to wind, rustling awake, stretching roots deep, deep down. It’s a part of me so deep, so elemental, I can’t even name it.

The part of my mind that isn’t consumed with accounting and finance, the part that isn’t even rational or entirely civilized. But for the first time, I feel the power of praying words alongside someone else, the power of praying words so familiar and ancient they come from some hitherto unknown part of my mind.

The sinner sierra simone