Lint in Literature: The Last Secret

I can't believe it's been such a long time since I posted about lint. A month. Dang. Life is so busy but we must remember:  There's always time for lint.

I finished reading Mary McGarry Morris's novel The Last Secret last night. It was a good book, but sort of dark. If you've read any of her books, you'll know what I mean:



Anyway, the other day, I read this passage (about Nora, who is feeling down and out, lousy, taken advantage of), and I grabbed a piece of paper to mark the page so I could add it here:

Pathetic, this groveling, this being a woman, mother, wife, trying to hold everything together, she thinks with a tug on the sleeve, this fury of pulling, ripping, tearing to pieces. Rags. And he won't even notice. A storm of little consequence, lint and bits of thread drifting onto the counter. He won't even notice. Only she will. The keeper of rags.

I love her writing but like I said, it's dark. And linty. Do you have a favorite author? Do they ever write about lint?