I am convinced that Ward Just is God: all-seeing, all-knowing, or at least brilliant, not to mention prescient.  Contemporary reverbs galore in A Family Trust, a 1978 novel about the pillaging of small town America by developers and the passing of the newspaper industry.

Thinking of the Drudge Report while reading the old man editor and publisher’s dismay at TV: “Unedited news was a calamity, for without editing a reader had no context by which to judge it, and no means of knowing its truth of falsehood or durability. An unedited newspaper was a delusion, a carnival sideshow of freaks and shell games, all of it chaotic and hysterical.”

But the passage I love most is this one:

“She believed that books were noble, even imperfect books. They disclosed what they had to disclose, at cost and at pain. The more the cost and greater the pain the finer the book.  She believed it as an article of faith: nothing should be withheld.”

 

 

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