Tag Archives: thoughts

The Power by Naomi Alderman

She thinks, That is how a man speaks. And that is why.

The power seeks its outlet. These things have happened before, they will happen again. These things are always happening.

My choice of quotes from The Power, this year’s winner of the Baileys Women’s Prize for Fiction.

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Stone Mattress

Maybe nubile teeny girl fans with Goth eye makeup, and stick marks tattooed on their necks like the Frankenstein creature, and dotted lines around their wrists with CUT HERE instructions, will visit his grave and leave him tributes composed of withered roses and whitened chicken bones. They send stuff like that to him already, and he’s not even dead. 

My most favourite passage in the collection. 

Big Little Lies by Liane Moriarty

I was looking for an easy, entertaining read, and this was just that. Moriarty’s writing reminds me a bit of Gillian Flynn or at least the type of storytelling does – female protagonists with a dark past. I enjoyed it and look forward to the miniseries coming next month.

Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

A black man nearby had hoisted his son onto his shoulders, and the son was laughing, his mouth full of milky teeth, one missing from the upper row. The father was looking up, and Ifemelu knew that he was stunned by his own faith, stunned to find himself believing in things he did not think he ever would. When the crowd exploded in applause, clapping and whistling, the man could not clap, because he was holding his son’s legs, and so he just smiled and smiled, his face suddenly young with joyfulness. Ifemelu watched him, and the other people around them, all glowing with strange phosphorescence, all treading a single line of unbroken emotion. They believed. They truly believed. 

Do you ever want to physically hug a book when you finish it? I absolutely adored this from beginning to end. It made me change the way I look at the world.

5/5

I Wished for You by Amy Huberman

This was fun, and an easy read. My favourite quote, although quite long, was and is…

…not everything had to come out in the wash. That sometimes stains and imperfections were a good thing. That was why she surrounded herself with vintage things, old things, old memories. Because sometimes that stubborn old stain was proof you’d lived, proof that you’d been somewhere, done something. That you’d made certain choices. That you were present. That missing button on a blouse after a night of pure passion with a lover. That wine stain from a friend’s dinner party. The ink mark at the bottom of your handbag after you’d written your mother’s birthday card.