By Svetlana Alexievich
"We came home. I took off al the clothes that I'd word there and threw the down the trash chute. I gave my cap to my little son. He really wanted it. And he wore it all the time. Two years later they give him a diagnoses; a tumor in his brain… You can write the rest of this yourself. I don't wan to talk anymore."
With that, I set down the book. I didn't want to read any more. This is not a bad book. It is a tough book. No happy ending. Stories of people dying. Stores of people rebuilding their lives after Chernobyl.
