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304 pages, Paperback
First published March 1, 1997
“Books offered no relief. Failing to act even as a shield, their presence attracted everything from mild curiosity to open hostility.
‘You think you’re going to learn something from a book?’ said the man sitting next to me. ‘Let me tell you a little something, bookworm, you’ll learn more on this goddamned bus than you would in a whole…’ He paused, attempting to recall the name given to such a place. ‘You’ll learn more here than in a whole pyramid full of books. You could fill a racetrack with every piece of shit ever written, but you’ll learn more right here.’
Having never seen a racetrack full of books, I thought it premature to contradict him.”

We would pass the afternoon at Ya Ya’s table, eating stringy boiled meat served with spinach pie. The food tasted as though it had been cooked weeks beforehand and left to age in a musty trunk. Her meals had been marinated in something dank and foreign and were cooked not in pots and pans, but in the same blackened kettles used by witches.
"Perchance, fair lady, thou dost think me unduly vexed by the sorrowful state of thine quarters," I said to my mother as I ran the vacuum cleaner over the living room carpet she was inherently too lazy to bother with. "These foul specks, the evidence of life itself, have sullied not only thine shag-tempered mat but also thine character. Be ye mad, woman?"
“A whore,.” I whispered. “That lady is a whore..” I'm not certain what reaction I was after, but shock would have done quite nicely.
Instead my mother said, “Well, then, we should probably offer her a drink.”
...
“Which do you like better,” my sister Amy asked, “Spending the night with strange guys or working in a cafeteria? What were the prison guards REALLY like? Do you ever carry a weapon? How much do you charge if someone just wants a spanking?”
“One at a time, one at a time,” my mother said. “Give her a second to answer.”
”I don’t know what kind of a game you’re playing, mister, but you ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
I haven't the slightest idea how to change people, but still I keep a long list of prospective candidates just in case I should ever figure it out.
I had imagined tree-shaded bungalows paneled in knotty pine. That to me, is the essence of the word colony.
This place was, instead, a nudist trailer park.
"We don't use the word colony anymore because it's too spooky. No, what we have are trailers ..."
He'd lost me way back. How was the word colony spooky, but not trailer or even nudist for that matter?