I picked up my reserved copy of Lit at the library the other day and started it on the way to New York, where I had a family event to attend this weekend. One issue it brings up for me right away is the balance between the literary portrayal of what is sad, shocking, and disturbing, and the redemption that we assume will follow (we assume it because we know that Mary Karr eventually became a Catholic). How much sordidness is enough? How much is too much? I often ask myself this about my own anonymous confessional writing, and I think that the only reason to talk about these things is to demonstrate how, in the end, the lotus has bloomed out of the proverbial mud; "Where sin did abound, there grace did abound ever more."