“Why did I look like this, when in my head I looked completely different? Who was that woman with the grey hair and the wrinkles? I didn’t have either of those things, when had that happened?”
― Old Friends Reunited
― Old Friends Reunited
“...as the Covid-19 pandemic burns through us, our world is passing through a portal. We have journeyed to a place from which it looks unlikely that we can return, at least not without some kind of serious rupture from the past - social, political, economic and ideological.... Coronavirus has brought with it another, more terrible understanding of Azadi: the Free virus that has made nonsense of international borders, incarcerated whole populations and brought the modern world to a halt like nothing else ever could. It casts a different light on the lives we have lived so far. It forces us to question the values we have built modern societies on - what we have chosen to worship and what to cast aside. As we pass through this portal into another kind of world, we will have to ask ourselves what we want to take with us and what we will leave behind. We may not always have a choice - but not thinking about it will not be an option. And in order to think about it, we need an even deeper understanding of the world gone by, of the devastation we have caused to our planet and the deep injustice between fellow human beings that we have come to accept.”
― Azadi: Freedom. Fascism. Fiction.
― Azadi: Freedom. Fascism. Fiction.
“You were only at risk for not remembering that this was as good as it would get, in every single moment—that you are right now as young as you’ll ever be again.”
― Fleishman Is in Trouble
― Fleishman Is in Trouble
“When my mother was near death at age ninety she told me that she was ready to die but could not. “You and Jim need me,” she said. My brother and I were by then in our sixties.”
― The Year of Magical Thinking
― The Year of Magical Thinking
“Beyond the borders of the land that was his lay the wilderness that was its own. The upthrust stone, the shoulders of the Bighorns, reddish gray where they stood near to the homestead and blue where they stood far—bluer, dissipating veils of blue lost against an indistinct horizon. The pale gold of autumn grass like the rough hide of an animal, wind-riffled down the mountain’s flank. The low trough where the river ran, a score mark in wet clay—dark, shadow-and-green, redolent of moving water, of soil that never went dry. And the infinite sweep of the prairie, yellow shaded with folds of violet until, a hundred miles away or more, the whole plain was swallowed by color and consumed, taken up by the lower edge of a sagging purple sky.”
― One for the Blackbird, One for the Crow
― One for the Blackbird, One for the Crow
Christine’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Christine’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
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