Läser just nu Steve Earles första roman, som släpptes samtidigt som hans nya skiva i våras och som har samma titel: ”I’ll never get out of this world alive”. Jag är helt fast i den underbara och varma historien om den tilltufsade och missbrukande doktorn ”Doc” Ebersole i San Antonio 1963. Doc hemsöks regelbundet av Hank Williams ande, men framförallt möter han den unga mexikanska flyktingflickan Graciela som tycks ha helande krafter. När Doc och Graciela besöker en liten katolsk kyrka – strax efter att de fått höra om mordet på John F Kennedy ett par mil bort – beskriver Steve Earle de bedjande människorna i kyrkan både vackert och insiktsfullt såhär:
”Row after row of tiny candles struggled for oxygen in blackened glass votives casting Halloween-colored shadows that danced on the edge of the darkness. Each was a personal beacon kindled by the hand of an individual believer in hopes of opening a private channel for communication with his or her God. They came and lit their candles and then they sank to their knees and silently waited. Not for a sign or a miracle, for these were not Sunday Christians offering up foxhole prayers. Most had prayed every day of their lives, and they knew no such vulgar display was forthcoming. They expected no remedy. No answers. They prayed only for affirmation, the peace that comes from unconditional and unwavering faith. It was enough to believe that God indeed heard them cry out in their hour of darkness.”
