Unveiling Hidden America: Lauren Hough’s Journey into the Heart of Modern Monsters
The processing of loss runs underneath all of it like a road under fog. Anyone who has loved a dog knows that to write about them is to write about unconditional love, and also mortality. You sign up for the magic of being loved by them, and you sign up, in advance, for losing them. I spent much of my time reading Monster of a Land with my feet tucked under my own beloved road trip companion, Numa: a 165-lb Newfoundland who has spent hours in my car as I drive along the East Coast between Maine and Philly. To travel with a dog is to be reminded, mile after mile, that you’re on the clock: that this incredible creature is aging faster than you — that the days you’re banking are days you can already feel running short. Hough never spells this out, but the feeling runs through the book like a current.
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