“What are you going to do now?” Mrs. Clancy asked me at the cottage. “I’m going to write a book,” I answered. The last confession of the sun god, told by the little girl he’d loved beyond all reason. Except, as it turned out, he was no god at all. Just a weak, damaged man who had lost everything, and who had known even less. But in the end truth is irrelevant. History is written by the winners.
The sun god is the biggest loser of them all.