I set my book down on the table when my friend walked into the kitchen. “’Welcoming the Unwelcome,’” she said, taking in the title on the splayed cover. “Why would you want to read a book like that?” She was smiling, but I could tell she wanted an answer. “Who would ever want to welcome the unwelcome?”

It’s a fair question, if somewhat of a trick. No one wants to get stranded in the barrow pit with a flat, be the last person chosen, stranded on the island of loneliness in an unhappy career or relationship. You don’t welcome a bad diagnosis or the crushing weight of bullies. Not even the most enlightened among us would welcome these reminders that we can be reduced to ash at any moment. That we are small.

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