As an idealist, I think of the words of this book many times. As Faulkner said: it is written with the experience of the mind. I marveled at Wolff's ability to perceive things, and I was fascinated by his use of words to construct memory, self, and eternity.
Angel Looks Home" is equivalent to Wolfe's autobiography, and his hurried passage of time makes it difficult not to think of "Reminiscences". His unique way of writing buries all the smells of memory in words, and you can see that words are like the water surging on the beach, washing away the confusion brought by the night. His words give the food a fragrant aroma that stimulates the reader's taste buds, and he can feel the vitality of spring and the fragrance of flowers.
The protagonist of the story, like Wolfe, is sensitive and full of kindness. His father was a true wanderer, and his genes were rooted in Eugene's heart – a stranger in a foreign land. Just like "The Brothers Karamazov", his brothers have very different personalities, but they are closely linked. Eugene doesn't stop at exploring real things, he has sold newspapers and worked as a school magazine editor, but without exception, he wants to understand his heart and find himself.
What this book gives me is that a person grows old peacefully in his hometown. Like a leaf, a stone, a door, or a person's life closer, slowly fading in the town. He was young and old, and the things around him were constantly changing. He traveled, fled, and was buried in the village by time. So this is a book of idealism, where the world and the author himself do things according to the heart. Treat ideals as something that cannot be desecrated.
Eugene read many books, Thackeray, Poe, Hawthorne. He believes that he lives in the flesh and blood of a thousand ** characters he has read, extends the people in his beloved books beyond the books, and carries their banners into real life. Isn't this a true portrayal of book lovers?
Wolf turned his heart and soul into words as they were, and a unique text was born, as old as a memory, and close to the eyes. He had never been there, but was looking for himself, like an angel statue, overlooking the world, not to mention being close to the town, but handing over his gaze to the mountains in the distance.
Eventually, Eugene discovers who and where. "Not anywhere, you are your own world. These are the words of my brother, and they are also the appearance of his heart.