This book was selected from my local Louisville library's book rec 'reading river' and started on my birthday as a misandrist, man-hating treat to myself the day after I caused a big family fight for saying the men had to help with the childcare during my birthday party, and calling it what it was (embarrassing) when there was protest. I have been looking for a feminist retelling of Genesis that voiced this type of female-centered world creation, even if I wouldn't have thought to put it in those words exactly.
Regardless, it was healing and devastating to read, especially paired with finishing Pachinko at the same time. "A woman's lot is to suffer" told over and over in the claustrophobia of being contained, corraled, coveted, covered, and concussed ad nauseum over so many landscapes and so many bodies. Very happy I picked this up and I loved the formatting/form of this just as much as the content.
///////Quotes
p28 The moon is, first and foremost, female (so they say), even in her fits of laughter. The same is true of Earth. And what is there that is not female? Tell me.
p46 Eve says she didn’t have a mother, but that’s not right: her mother was the apple.
We’re descended from fruits, which in turn descend from the trees, which intern are descended from the seeds inside the fruits: a complete circle of life.
p64 Laughing for the first time: this, along with the apple and the tears, was shaping us, giving us spirit. The apple, shape. Laughter, spirit. Tears, both together.
p104
We had brought the goal of protecting ourselves and surviving with us from Eden, because we yearned to be outside of Time.
Although I lived all this, it’s not my thing. Mine is roasting apples, cooking vegetables, browning and toasting seeds, finding the flavor in the food we had to eat. But eating or being eaten is a basic question that exceeds the limits of our grammar: it’s part of nature. But I’m not really part of nature, no one is. There’s something in us that doesn’t come from earth, that makes us yearn for it and desire it, knowing we have different roots. Which is why we invent things to belong to – countries, creed, and more. We’ll never fully belong to this paradise or hell we inhabit.
p110
My legs buckle. I squat. At the center of that new passageway, the clitoris blossoms: the vivid pleasure of the apple, breaking and opening my skin. Raw flesh, sensitive, wise to the heart, intimate of blood, aware of earthly gravity, both rigid and soft, it contained both the word and the memory of the intense pleasure I felt when I bit into the fruit, as well as an awareness of myself, and more, much more.
I moved my hand to my clitoris.
That first bite that crunched between my teeth and changed our lives had reserved for me, in that little black seed, the ultimate pleasure.
p112 And it wasn’t just that night. I touched my clitoris constantly; the pleasure was always there, waiting for me. Adam wanted to imitate me, to have what I had. He had noticed that my hand wasn’t the source of the sensation, so he tried with his own. And he kept on trying.
Determined, he rubbed and rubbed and kept on rubbing the space between his legs, even trying with other objects, but he couldn’t obtain the delightful feeling I had been gifted by the seed of that delicious fruit, made incarnate inside my body, manifesting outside it.
Adam rubbed so much that he created a fold in the skin between his legs.
p116 the thing hanging between his legs, a mirror parody of what we’d later refer to as his sword, stood up. But how? Was that also caused by atoms envy of my own pleasure?
Because I had everything I needed for pleasure: I had a clitoris.
But whenever he stopped rubbing his thing, it became limp tail again, dangling. Adam kept on rubbing and until his tail pointed up toward the sky. He was determined to continue rubbing to keep it upright, employing various tools to help rub or sheath his erect dangler. He wanted to keep it erect, no matter what else he needed to do with his hands, in ferocious pursuit of the pleasure that came so effortlessly and simply to me, all mine.
Adam was feeling clitoris envy. Males will always have it, that unspoken, unexpressed envy of the clitoris. The silence that accompanies this it all makes it all the more apparent.
p131
I think now I learned to want to adorn my body from the trees, which do so each passing day, changing their leaves, shedding blossom, releasing spores that adore in the sky.