Silence by Shusaku Endo

When I read books, I wait for a feeling to hit me at the end.  I want to be moved...to joy, to sadness, to pathos, something.  I will usually judge a book by how much I am moved.  I've read books with stellar, epic narratives that are expertly weaved together.  But if it doesn't leave me with an exquisite pang about the human experience, I feel like it wasn't worth it.  When I read Silence by Shusaku Endo, I was filled with a very tangible sense of grace and an ache and awe for the mystery of faith.  It was hard and profound.  It makes you confront the weakness of religion and human psyche's strugggle to pursue an ideal that will never be as wonderful as you thought it would be.  And yet it shows the human desire to keep pursuing a faith that lives in our hearts no matter how much society or ourselves want to beat it out.   Although the events took place in Japan during the 1500s, I felt grace transcending from the narrative to my mind and soul as I read the book in my new apartment.  It gave me what I needed to get through a hard day.