If you’d like to read a beautiful piece of writing, take a look a “The Boy Who Makes Waves”. Here’s a snippet:
I have had glimpses of the kind of man I should be. Such are the revelations we are afforded. Passing glimpses, like the small, hidden pond you pass while driving on a particular road for the first time. Suddenly opening up and then closing once again. So that it can be instantly forgotten, or recalled only in part.
I have had these glimpses. Once, while attending some frighteningly capitalistic rally for Amma, the hugging saint, her face magnified and simulcast throughout the convention center in Coralville, Iowa, and printed on mugs and glossy paper and everything else, I had such a glimpse.
I had taken Mike to see the hugging saint for the same reason we have taken him a lot of places — with the hope that somehow it might help, that something might reach him. Anyway, what did we have to lose?
By all means read the whole thing. The author is Joe Blair, described by the New York Times as “ a pipefitter in Iowa City”.
You think so? I’m not particularly impressed by this section, for example:
The last clause, “I had such a glimpse”, is quite jarring when read at the end of that large run-on sentence.
Sounds like some readers want textbook prose, which is fine, if you live in a world that follows textbook rules.