It just took some people a little longer than others to realize how few words they needed to get by, how much of life they could negotiate in silence.

I write about kids growing up, I write a lot about schools and parents, and all of my experiences with those things have been suburban experiences.

Safe from the Neighbors is a novel of unusual richness and depth, one that's as wise about the small shocks within a marriage as it is about the troubled history of Mississippi. Steve Yarbrough is a formidably talented novelist, shuttling between the past and present with a grace that feels effortless.

Every minute we were together, I felt like I was wandering in the dark through a strange house, groping for a light switch. And then, whenever I found one and turned it on, the bulb was dead.

My mythic version of America is very much about parents and children, and in my experience, the suburban setting is where that particular drama plays out. Which isn't to say that there aren't parents and children in cities or on farms. I just don't know them.

The lesson you have to learn as novelist is how to be collaborative, and how to say, "I don't get to dictate this."

Because, really, what was worse than lying wide-awake in the dark, watching your life drip away, one irreplaceable minute after another?