Atonement, by Ian McEwan

She wondered whether having final responsibility for someone, even a creature like a horse or a dog, was fundamentally opposed to the wild and inward journey of writing. Protective worrying, engaging with another’s mind as one entered it, taking the dominant role as one guided another’s fate, was hardly mental freedom. Perhaps she might become one of those women – pitied or envied – who chose not to have children.

This book is so good. I think I’ve found a new favorite author.

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