Emily Mayo

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When Brooklyn Was...
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by Hugh Ryan (Goodreads Author)
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Apr 29, 2026 08:57PM

 
The Age of Calami...
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Apr 26, 2026 12:41PM

 
Birnam Wood
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May 18, 2025 11:25AM

 
See all 10 books that Emily is reading…
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“She was dying to see what the soft bits of flesh around Pauline's sides felt like - gorgeous, is how they felt, sublime, is how they felt - and it's not even that wrestling was particularly acceptable behaviour for a girl in Dublin at that time, but at least wrestling was a story to tell. It made their craving to touch and be touched halfway legible to themselves.”
Oisín McKenna, Evenings and Weekends

Jesmyn Ward
“We who still live do what we must. Life is a hurricane, and we board up to save what we can and bow low to the earth to crouch in that small space above the dirt where the wind will not reach. We honor anniversaries of deaths by cleaning graves and sitting next to them before fires, sharing food with those who will not eat again. We raise children and tell them other things about who they can be and what they are worth: to us, everything. We love each other fiercely, while we live and after we die. We survive; we are savages.”
Jesmyn Ward, Men We Reaped: A Memoir

Adelle Waldman
“These days, Potterstown was as much museum as city, its past glory evident less in its people - many of whom walked around with something of a shell-shocked look, as if modernity itself had caught them unawares - than in the fine old buildings that had outlived the purposes for which they'd been built.”
Adelle Waldman, Help Wanted

Christopher Castellani
“Not once in those years with Tenn did he question his right to gorge himself on beauty until he burst, and then to drop everything to chase the deer into the woods for more. He should have known better. No one gets away with such a life.”
Christopher Castellani, Leading Men

Emery Robin
“Life! - Life, its sea and sky, the heat of blood and breath. Life: In it was every color, was the weight of brick on brick and foot on stone, was hunger and thirst and shivering from rain, was swifts and seagulls and dragonflies and sand, was meat, was bread, was salt. Life, my life, my sight and taste and touch, the only things I had that were mine alone, that had come into the world with me and that when I left the world would never be again. Heart and lungs, hands and tongue, elbows and teeth and liver and cheeks and spine and breasts and brain, those parts of me that had not been thrown to the winds with my sister or the ashes of my friend, the heavy animal parts of me that every minute sang the oldest hymn: I want, I want, I want to live. Despite it all, I want to live.”
Emery Robin, The Sea Eternal

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