The writing you allude to is a form of dissent, but it's also expressive of the need to evolve beyond what is turgid and stale in contemporary fiction.

Divorce also entails the beginning of a supposition that that familial reality might have obstructed one's ability to perceive others.

I absolutely don't dislike children - I would choose their company over adult company any time.

I suppose, I said, it is one definition of love, the belief in something that only the two of you can see.

A neighbor is something that belongs to the stable world of home life, the thing that lives next door to you.

There is a slovenly disrespect for truth and reality that has infected and cross-infected the arts; the values of entertainment are relentlessly in the ascendant, to the extent that it becomes virtually impossible to write a naturalistic fictional sentence without feeling that the fabric of that sentence is already compromised.

Reality might be described as the eternal equipoise of positive and negative.