Some books are there to pull you back from the edge of a ragged wound. This is one of them. It is so tender and human and humane, and I didn’t realize just how much I needed it until my partner and I started reading it (we’ve made a habit of reading fiction aloud to one another, and let me tell you, Becky Chambers’ prose begs to be read aloud— it is playful and delicious and filled with joyous rhythms and alliterative cascades), but I needed it and found it as nourishing to my soul

as the cup of mountain thyme tea Mosscap made for Dex.