Y’s Reviews > Carrie > Status Update

Momma had opened the door and walked stolidly in. She and Carrie had
stared at each other down the short length of the front hall for a moment,
like gunfighters before a shootout.
(fear could it really have been fear in momma's eyes)
Momma closed the door behind her. “You're a woman,” she said softly.
Carrie felt her face twisting and crumpling and could not help it.

sue scene :
realising she likes tommy, their intimacy hasn't been so good, in a car, telling him about carrie and feeling bad about it and feeling bad about who she is bc this is out of character and also worrying about who she actually is, tommy relating, sue turning on tommy bc she feels bad, tommy fawning, they talk about the future, when they get together again it feels good for sue, he asks her to prom

She hated her face, her dull, stupid, bovine face, the vapid eyes, the red,
shiny pimples, the nests of blackheads. She hated her face most of all.
The reflection was suddenly split by a jagged, silvery crack. The mirror
fell on the floor and shattered at her feet, leaving only the plastic ring to
stare at her like a blinded eye

The napkin Miss Desjardin had fixed was already wilting and she
changed it carefully, knowing how bad she was, how bad they were, how
she hated them and herself. Only Momma was good.......
carries dream
Her momma had torn the Something out of herself and was pure.
Carrie hated her.

She was thick through the waist only because sometimes
she felt so miserable, empty, bored, that the only way to fill that gaping,
whistling hole was to eat and eat and eat—but she was not that thick
through the middle. Her body chemistry would not allow her to go beyond a
certain point. she thought her legs were actually pretty
could stop the chocolates and her pimples would go down.

bob dylan!
Found written repeatedly on one page of a Ewen Consolidated High School
notebook owned by Carrie White:
*1
Everybody's guessed/that baby can't be blessed/'til she finally sees that
she's like all the rest. . . .

“Oh, she was so pretty. You'd never know from those pictures.

“‘No, I won't,’ she said. ‘Momma says good girls don't.’ She looked
strange for a little girl, half sad and half self-righteous.
..........
“She lowered her head and said something so softly I couldn't hear it.
When I asked her to repeat it, she looked at me defiantly and said that her
momma had been bad when she made her and that was why she had them.

“She was such a pretty girl,” I've seen some high school pictures of her, and that horriblefuzzy black-and-white photo on the cover of Newsweek. I look at them... She was so pretty, with pink cheeks and
bright brown eyes, and her hair the shade of blonde you know will darken
and get mousy. Sweet is the only word that fits. Sweet and bright and
innocent. Her mother's sickness hadn't touched her very deeply, not then.

father spooky