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156 pages, Paperback
First published October 14, 2014
The worst torture is one that leaves no mark. Everyone thinks you're overreacting. Everyone thinks your deck was cut by a con man. When someone renders your soul, heating it to the point that it separates from your body like clarified butter . . . Well, we're all clarified now, aren't we?(Quote Loc. 731–734 on the damned library Kindle version where it is very hard to quickly flip back and forth when you've forgotten the chapter title; oh how I hate Kindle. If you're not as cheap as I am and you have shelf space, buy the book. Uh-oh, I think Alice is taking possession of me. Yes, it's happening . . . "I want everyone: the butcher, the baker, the circuit breaker. The pallbearer, the sun starer, the system error to say NO to giving amazon your hard-earned dollars and the publisher and writer of this beautiful little book a mere pittance. Instead, I want Pearl, Burl, and the girl who sat every Monday afternoon for six years on Mrs. Chen's chenille couch waiting for her piano lesson, I want every one of you who's reading this review to buy an honest-to-god tangible book directly from the wonderful nonprofit publisher BOA Editions!")
When someone erases your soul—and when someone steals your parking space, leaving you in tears behind the steering wheel, isn't that exactly what it is? Soul is the lightning you don't see but know exists because you hear the thunder. The ice you know is buried in the rocks of the red planet because you've seen the Viking photos of the ancient river valleys. The blue note plucked on the double bass so low the audience doesn't hear it and thinks their chill comes from the horn alone.