emily

“When the future is without hope, the present tastes appallingly bitter.”
― Émile Zola, Thérèse Raquin

“We live in a time, dearest daughter, when the callous and ignorant in wealthy nations have made it their business to loudly proclaim who are the deserving "us" (those really "us") and who are the alien and undeserving "them.”
― David Chariandy, I've Been Meaning to Tell You: A Letter to My Daughter

“Since your birth, especially, I've wanted to believe that people of many backgrounds can find points of commonality in a world of hardened divisions, previous moments of recognition and intimacy across differences, and so begin the necessarily hard work of authentically seeing and hearing one another. Of course, I want to believe that reading and discussing books can play a part in this. But I also want to avoid imagining easy answers to the intricacies of the world, or being blind to persistent hierarchies of power. I want to understand the unspoken sources of wealth, and our often-unacknowledged implication in history. Today, I am someone who can find himself in contexts unfamiliar to many people of my background. But I am also someone who cannot allow such inclusion to blind me to deeper truths.”
― David Chariandy, I've Been Meaning to Tell You: A Letter to My Daughter

“Because this land they live in is a land of missing things. A land stripped of its gold, its rivers, its buffalo, its Indians, its tiger, its jackals, its birds and its green and its living. To move through this land and believe Ba's tales is to see each hill as a burial mound with its own crown of bones. Who could believe that and survive? Who could believe that and keep from looking, as Ba and Sam do, always toward the past? Letting it drag behind them. Letting it make them into fools.

And so Lucy fears that unwritten history. Easier to dismiss all Ba's tales as tall ones - because believe, and where does it end? If she believes that tigers live, then does she believe that Indians are hunted and dying? If she believes in fish the size of men, does she believe in men who string up others like linefuls of catch? Easier to avoid that history, unwritten as it is except in the soughing of dry grass, in the marks of lost trails, in the rumors from the mouths of bored men and mean girls, in the cracked patterns of buffalo bone. Easier by far to read the history that Teacher Leigh teaches, those names and dates orderly as bricks, stacked to build a civilization.”
― C Pam Zhang, How Much of These Hills Is Gold