I think they should just rename it, The Department of War is Peace.

When I was five my parents sat me down, on the edge of the bathtub (as I recall), oddly, and asked me if Dad should come home, after a brief separation. He was practically vibrating with nervous energy, nonverbally begging me to say yes. Mom was more stoic. I said yes. How could I not?

In the tub, listening to Matana Roberts' Coin Coin Chapter Five: In the Garden, it occurs to me that this is not just amazing music. The series, taken as a whole, is the great American novel.