“It’s not quite love and it’s not quite community; it’s just this feeling that there are people, an abundance of people, who are in this together. Who are on your team. When the check is paid and you stay at the table. When it’s four A.M. and no one goes to bed. That night with the guitar. That night we can’t remember. That time we did, we went , we saw, we laughed, we felt. The hats.”
This book was one I brought as a honeymoon read and it was sweet and significant and lovely in all the right places. Shortly after penning a brilliant commencement piece at Yale, Keegan was killed in a car accident. This posthumously published collection of short stories and essays is written both maturely but sincerely, not coming across like somebody trying to sound much older. It contains notes that allude to the deception of invincibility that comes with a young age, but also its tendency to allow you to marvel at the simplest human interactions.