“What followed, until I met Barry Reckord in my forty-fourth year, was a series of sometimes very brief, sometimes sustained affairs,...

Fredrik Backman pens healing like a flower blooming from the dust. As a person of sharp tongue but a tofu heart, much like myself, I...

In the pages of The Order of Time, one finds themselves adrift in a beguiling sea where the streams of physics and poetry converge. The...