Either the entertainment world is conspiring against me and stealing my buried emotions and turning them into films and books to get me, or I'm becoming more of a sap.
I finished My Name is Asher Lev by Chiam Potok last night, and it all but devastated me. I felt like someone took a trolling hook to my chest and ripped out everything I had inside. I couldn't even speak for the first half hour after reading it, and I spent a good extra hour lying awake and thinking about it. Put simply: If you are a Christian artist in any way shape or form, you NEED to read this book. Truly.
I doubt it will affect everyone the way it did me, but anyone trying to balance their walk with what they believe is their gift is going to be deeply and profoundly disturbed by this book. I woke up thinking about it. I will probably be thinking about it tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after, and so on. As much as I love words and writing and stories, I don't think I've ever had one burrow inside me as deeply as this one has. Cheers to you, Mr. Potok. You've done messed me up.
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