unlike last year’s Giller prize winner, this book is available everywhere. i liked reading it on the subway and looking up to see an ad for it-this is a big deal coming from the girl who prides herself on not reading franchises. a recent conversation with a co-worker went like this, “wait-you haven’t seen any of the Star Wars?” “i feel the same way about you not knowing a single Prince song”. and, checkmate. like a Grace Jones Canada Dry commercial. i take it back, Shaheen-i recommend this for all the reasons i mentioned before, as well as the music history it offers. there’s just something so brilliant about a perfectly crafted sentence, and this book is rife with them. i sincerely hope that there is no lockout/strike of library workers, but just in case, i have taken the rash action of making all 60 of my holds active, and i’m watching my list hour after hour as more and more of them change status to “in transit”. this could either be amazing, or a disaster. oh well, high risk, high reward. now i can put back the Woody Allen story collection that i borrowed in sheer panic this afternoon.
“The room was overhung with lace, the mean sun burning through, lighting up everything. Hell. On the bed by the window lay a creature so ancient I’d swore it known Cain back in the day. Its skin was so ashy it looked grey, its face so scrawny it was caving in on itself. Looked like an enormous sea turtle.” (57)
just as armed as Jean Grae in this battle for imagery.