Reflections on the 4th of July

From a very non-patriotic reader of American literature

It's the 4th of July, the United States’ Independence Day. I have never been huge on celebrating it, although growing up there would be fireworks and usually a fire on the beach with grilling or a barbeque.

I'm not particularly interested in commemorating my home country on the best of days. But with the state of things (I don't think I need to enumerate the issues here), I'm even less inclined to do so.

And yet, I woke up today and as I thought about it being the 4th of July and how disturbing the US is (lately, forever), I also was reminded that we have a rich literary tradition, and that is worth celebrating.

I thought of Toni Morrison, of Tommy Orange. I thought of Larry McMurtry, Miranda July, Ocean Vuong. Writers who capture American life, in so many forms, with so much insight and terror and beauty. Cormac McCarthy! So many favorites, mine and yours, who speak to not only Americans but to people all around the world. I see it every day at my bookshop.

I’m not going to grill today or set off any fireworks, but I am going to appreciate the complicated, messy place I come from, because the US is more than craven politicians: it’s people. People who leave, who come back, who stay, and some of whom write their stories for us. Maybe those stories can help us write a better future.