Sunday Sentence: The Wasp Eater by William Lychack

Simply put, the best sentence(s) I’ve read this past week, presented out of context and without commentary.

At the bottom of everything, they were a family of silence—nothing but blind, black, coal-crumbling silence, his father never anchored or steady like his mother, his mother never sanguine or loose like his father.

The Wasp Eater by William Lychack