Nothing I write could do justice to William Gay's works. If I could write just one page like him I'd go to heaven content. My title, above, was chosen on many true levels. His genius does break your heart. He started writing late in life, having spent many years squandering his giant talent drinking and working as a jobbing builder. He continued to squander his time and talent and wrote very few books before his premature death - all of which is such a heartbreaking waste. I have read all his books and while I am reviewing one - "The Long Home" - this review is about all of them because all are equal in stature. All his stories are set in the American South and each one reflects the passions, the extremes of temperature, the hot, humid summers and the ice-crackling winters. Each book is filled with authentic people. You know they lived and breathed or died and were as terrible or as tragic as he describes. Each book is a treasure, beautifully crafted and full of dramatic surprises, grief, brief joy, and the most exquisite language. Some scenes are so incredible I almost leap out of my skin. My heart beats fast and I hang on for a ride. If you buy just one last book in your life, make that last book any one of William Gay's giant novels.