One man’s attempt to understand himself, his wife, his country, and the human predicament — all before breakfast.
In 1974 Sy Safransky borrowed fifty dollars to start The Sun. As the magazine has grown, he’s become a busy editor and publisher, but he still gets up before sunrise to write in his journal, occasionally publishing excerpts in a section of the magazine called Sy Safransky’s Notebook. Many Alarm Clocks offers a selection of those excerpts from the last fifteen years: a lyrical, highly personal, often self-deprecating series of ruminations on love and loss, faith and doubt, hypocritical Republicans and feckless Democrats. Safransky writes about loving his wife and about eating too much and about not meditating enough and about getting older every day no matter how many vitamins he takes. Sometimes he talks to the dead. Sometimes he argues with God. He readily admits there’s a lot he’ll never understand, but he’s determined to honor this brief, mysterious existence by being awake for it.
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