In The Little Virtues, she writes with a subtle wit and humor in essays that span the mundane and the existential— about her need to write, wearing shitty shoes, bad food in England, how starkly different she and her husband were, and how children should be raised … which is really about living in general (to value and teach not caution but courage, not thrift, but generosity, “not a desire for success but a desire to be and to know”) -- while isolation and fear and deep loss seep through in spare moments. She wrote while living through the second World War and fascism, in the midst of horror and grief (her husband was killed after being tortured by Nazi police). And yet, her writing feels rooted in the everyday, in depictions of deep and strange friendships and crazy family arguments, and is somehow timeless and relatable. If you’d like some thoughtful company/musings/wisdom, you should give this gem of a book (just over 100 pages!) a read.