Self just decided: she’s not going to leave the bed until she finishes reading Filkins.
Half a day, 24 hours, 2 days, who cares.
Sorry, Amy, who paid for a book that self still hasn’t delivered.
Sorry, stomach. No meals. You don’t need meals anyway. You need discipline!
The chapter on suicide bombers.
A kindly man invites Filkins to his home, offers him tea what-not, yada yada yada, pops a video into the video player, and it’s a video of a Caucasian man being beheaded. Thank you for your hospitality, oh kindly Iraqi. Filkins does not record his response.
Another day. Suicide bomber is heading straight for the Baghdad headquarters of the International Red Cross. How does Filkins know it’s a suicide bomber? Maybe it’s because the man is driving at super-top speed over the rutted street, eyes fixed on that building?
And, the most unexpected thing happens: another Iraqi, a civilian, either a Good Samaritan or a masochist, who can say, spots the bomber too and tries to cut him off. Of course he doesn’t manage to do it. Bomb explodes. Good-bye, suicide bomber. Good-bye, Good Samaritan.
Self will keep reading.