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"يخرج الرجل بعد صلاة الجمعة زائغ العينين ويحس وهلة كأن سير الحياة قد توقف. ينظر إلى حقله بما فيه من نخل وزرع وشجر، فلا يحس بأي غبطة في نفسه. يحس أنها جميعا عرض زائل، وأن الحياة التي يحياها ما هي إلا جسر إلى عالم آخر. ويقف برهة يسأل نفسه ماذا أعد لذلك العالم؟ لكن جزئيات الحياة ما تلبث أن تشغل فكره؛ وسريعًا، أسرع مما توقع، تغيب صورة العالم الآخر البعيد، وينظر إلى حقله فيحس مرة أخرى بذلك الفرح الذي يعطيه مبررات وجوده."

Why does the new DNF shelf not show reviews and ratings within it :/ just when I thought GR was finally doing something right

بسبب انقطاعي عن قراءة الرواية لفترة، وصعوبة تذكر ٣+ اسماء لكل شخصية، لاحظت ميزة في اسلوب الكتابة؛ لكل شخصية لون يميّزها عن غيرها، سواءً في طريقة كلامها أو تحدث الراوي عنها، فيسهّل ذلك تذكرها.
(وإن ما زلت أعاني مع الاسماء الكثيرة |* )

"Finally, I learned to respect ugliness: as an enduring reflection of our humanness. Ugliness alone reflects a truth that transcends images and words in bearing witness to the vulnerability of human life and the organic limits of the many abstract, general ideals imposed on us.
I must respect ugliness as a witness, archive, test, and reflection before I can return to my search for other, negated beauties."

"Nothing will ever undo what we discover in encountering the sheer vulnerability of the human body in the form of a body we love and respect. Illness and injury are so destructive and cruel, and leave us so exposed, they have the power to rob us of shame and autonomy. Until one day, our own death demands the surrender of our body, as though it had never belonged to us.

Do you really not belong to me, dear body?"

"We're afraid of ugliness, afraid of finding it in old people's wrinkles, in the wounds, lumps, deformities, fluids, and fractures of those we see approaching death. By forever banishing the frail and ailing from our sight, we ourselves hope for refuge from the ever-present threat of death. The frail and ailing are repellent to us, so that by distancing ourselves from them, we may forget that mortality even exists."

"Some made a show of compassion,
Others of revulsion,
But we did not want them
To hate
or pity us.
All we needed was love."

"The desire for science-based criminal recognition is fundamentally corrupt—it robs humans of free will. We all make decisions both in spite of and because of our circumstances. There isn't a statistical probability calculation or database that can ever rob us of our capacity to defy expectations.
The reality outside our bodies is what creates criminality, not our bodies themselves."

"It's more than mere vexation expressing itself in the shame one feels at not being accepted by society, even after giving up one's nose, heritage, and community. […] entrenched fascist ideology is never simply looking to reject the deviant nose as such; it is out to reject the very existence of the human to whom the nose belongs."

"I dig up the photo for this book.
I search in vain
for an ugly horseface.
All I find is the picture of a child
flashing her teeth,
smiling for what will be the last time
in fourteen years."

"You might not be afraid, but I shall be afraid of ruining you."

ناستازيا من الشخصيات المثيرة للاهتمام، مزيج من الكبرياء والقهر مع احتقار الذات والغير على حدٍ سواء. أرغب في تفكيك أفعالها حتى أصل الى جذورها عساي أفهمها أكثر فأكثر

Lmao the fandom and secret ghost writer side plot was stretching out the ridiculousness too far. Felt as if I'm reading a children book.

I have to say, I don't like how they're dancing on the edge of consent.

I don’t like situations where it all turns out to be ok because both of them actually wanted it, even though that wasn’t mutually understood at the beginning.

"But just because she understood, and sympathized, that didn't mean she'd give up. She couldn't surrender her own interest just to soothe his pride. She made that mistake before. She had to look out for herself, no one else would."

"لا شيء كان أشقّ على نفسه عندئذٍ من فكرةٍ دارت في خاطره: «ليتني أستطيع ألّا أموت! ليت الحياة تُردُّ إليَّ! لأحصينَّ جميع الدقائق لا أضيّع منها واحدة.»
- وهل عاش يحسب الدقائق فلا يضيِّع منها دقيقة واحدة؟
- لا، إّنه لم يعش بهذه الطريقة أبدًا، بل بدَّد دقائق كثيرة."

"Even humble men are conceited sometimes."

"I couldn't even cry because I hated myself so much, I thought I heard someone else crying, though. Somehow I resented their sorrow, as if only I were entitled to it; but then I was ashamed of my utter selfishness."

"I felt a strange homesickness for no home I'd known."

"She grinned, 'It's nice to be some people and do nothing.' If that had been said to me before I came to the Island, I'd have felt guilty and jumped to my feet; but now I lay relaxed and lazy and, without turning my head, drawled, 'Well, you don't do very much yourself, do you?'".

"The air was very fresh, yet soft against my face, and suddenly I was filled with hope and not at all anxious."

"and there was my father in the hall. Seeing him unexpectedly like that, I saw him very clearly: he wasn't as large as I'd remembered him, but quite an ordinary size, and his cheeks hung down rather yellow and sad; only his moustache remained as it had always been—black and fierce and pointed."

"Everywhere in the house there were sad little reminders—a limp string shopping-bag hanging from the kitchen door; a fortune-telling book in the dresser-drawer; a fern in the dining-room window that had died from neglect since she had ceased to tend it; and one small black glove mixed up with the string she used to save—little things like that were everywhere."

"We were still laughing when I heard father come in and I knew our happy time was over."

"A stronger kind of sadness than I usually knew suddenly came as I looked at Mother and saw how really ill she was."

"The day was nearly over and it was like most of the days I could remember: all overshadowed by my father and cleaning the cats' cages and the smell of cabbage, escaping gas and my father's scent. There were moments of peace, and sometimes sunlight outside. It was like that all the time."

Poor Finlay :( :( :(

Everything is good, except that I barely know anything about the main character, even though we're in her head the whole time.

their trip feels like a date-vacation and not trying to find a, technically, missing person.

Very flawed characters. Quite interesting nonetheless. I am on trembling grounds not sure who anyone is and how things will end up!

😬😬😬(And I thought the accident would be where the story explodes!)

Also, this raises an important question about the ethics behind going through deceased loved ones intimate things. Do we have the right to, in the name of grief, or is it best to give the dead their privacy?