Two book beginnings ~ (1) in a jail cell, and (2) with a question

I usually have both fiction and nonfiction books going at the same time.  I'm re-reading Anna Quindlen's novel One True Thing (1994).  I've recommended it many times, but had forgotten the book's beginning lines:

"Jail is not as bad as you might imagine.  When I say jail, I don't mean prison.  Prison is the kind of place you see in old movies or public television documentaries, those enormous gray places with guard towers at each corner and curly strips of razor wire going round and round like a loop-the-loop atop the high fence."

A mother.  A daughter.  A shattering choice.  Ellen Gulden is enjoying her career as a successful magazine writer in New York City when she learns that her mother, Kate, is dying of cancer.  Ellen’s father insists that she quit her job and return home to become a caregiver.  A high-powered career woman, Ellen has never felt she had much in common with her mother, a homemaker and the heart of their family.  Yet as Ellen begins to spend time with Kate, she discovers many surprising truths, not only about herself, but also about the woman she thought she knew so well.  When Ellen is accused of the mercy killing of her mother, she must not only defend her own life but make a difficult choice — either accept responsibility for an act she did not commit or divulge the name of the person she believes committed a painful act of love.

I'm re-reading Jürgen Moltmann's Experiences of God (1979, English edition, 1980), that I thought I had misplaced.  When I moved my bed away from the wall, I found it had slid down the wall to the floor.  I first read this book in 1988, thirty-three years ago.  Here's the beginning:

"Why am I a Christian?  What a curious question!  Who is interrogating me like this?  Do I have to put my name on my answer?  The question sounds inquisitive.  Somebody wants to know the reasons that led some-body else to a particular conviction.  It sounds impertinent too — as if the other person is bound to justify his decision to believe."

Enduring meditations on hope, anxiety, and mystical experience, together with the author's personal confession of faith.

Gilion at Rose City Reader hosts

Book Beginnings on Fridays.