i first learned of this book just over a year ago, as it was in the carry-on language of a visitor from new york. the cover and the cryptic jacket description and praise recently caught my eye again, beckoning at me from a shelf at my home branch, taunting me away from the mountain of hold materials currently in my care. after the two days that i spent with it, i experienced an actual sadness that it was out of my life, ironically after the compulsion to spend my every free moment with it. maybe it’s because it’s about phantom limb pain (and lynda barry spoke of the probably existing and never mentioned phantom limb pleasure). at any rate, i have a mad writer crush, and the library seems to secretly support it, as incendiary arrived on my hold shelf today, when i requested it fifteen minutes after i finished little bee. (swoon).
“Truly, there is no flag for us floating people. We are millions, but we are not a nation. We cannot stay together. Maybe we get together in ones and twos, for a day or a month or even a year, but then the wind changes and carries the hope away. Death came and I left in fear. Now all I have is my shame and the memory of bright colors and the echo of Yevette’s laugh. Sometimes I feel as lonely as the Queen of England.” (80)