01 January 2018 -
Could You Repeat That? CLXVI
Favorite Lines of Recent Reads
The Pho Cookbook, Andrea Nguyen
Charring ginger and onions (or shallots) seems fussy. Why bother with it? On a visceral level, the aroma of the burning onion, shallot, and ginger skin evokes open-flame cooking in Vietnam.
Sing, Unburied, Sing, Jesmyn Ward
He asked me if I wanted to go fishing with him a few weeks later. I said yes, and walked out the front door. Wasn't no need to sneak out anymore, my parents wrapped up in their grief. Spider-bound: web-blind.
Bitch Planet: President Bitch (graphic novel), Kelly Sue DeConnick
KAM: You in here blaming yourself...meanwhile the motherfucker who broke her neck is still walking on two legs. Remember that.
PENNY: Yeah. Sniff. Yeah, okay.
In Calabria, Peter S Beagle
He straightened up and shrugged into his battered, beloved leather jacket, thinking, there is a poem in this coat--Stretched his arms pleasurably, yawned, scratched the back of his own shaggy neck, and saw the unicorn in his vineyard.
The Anthropology of Turquoise, Ellen MeloyAnd...
Four panting breaths short of heatstroke I have come to the conclusion that Pliny the Elder and a road map from 1940 are inadequate guides to the Mojave Desert.
For postmodern empiricists, foggy indeterminacy won't do. Knowledge must be tidy with meaning, the mysteries solved, the experiences beneath the dust carefully measured. When we forage for stories, we may end up telling our own. When we cannot possess the thoughts of past cultures, we possess their things.
Forbidden Brides of the Faceless Slaves in the Secret House of the Night of Dread Desire (graphic novel), Neil Gaiman & Shane Oakley
AMELIA: I will bring thee brides. I shall bring brides FOR ALL.
GHOUL: Yes, and do you think we could get her to throw in a side order of those little bread-roll things?
The Incubators, Jennifer Matarese
Mama's voice has become a wounded friend of late, staying away so it won't let slip something we'll both regret.
Baking: From My Home to Yours, Dorie Greenspan
I've sometimes thought that if my mother had been a baker (she wasn't), and if she had ever made me this cake (which she didn't), it would have been my childhood favorite.
The Woman Next Door, Yewande Omotoso
'Was that the phone I heard?'
'No, it was the bells of Notre-Dame.' This was pain. You live so long you think you've felt it all. 'Excuse me, Marion. If you don't mind.'
'Oh, sorry. I'm in your way.'
Manhattan Beach, Jennifer Egan
But it wasn't just the chair that had driven him to Dexter Styles; it was a restless, desperate wish for something to change. Anything. Even if the change brought a certain danger. He'd take danger over sorrow every time.
The Pearl Thief, Elizabeth Wein
"Is he dead?"
"Yes?" I prompted.
I narrowed my eyes, overwhelmed with the feeling that all adults are incompetent lunatics.
Lincoln in the Bardo, George Saunders
It was all too much, too private, and I left that place, and walked alone.
As did I.
roger bevins iii
I lingered there, transfixed, uttering many prayers.
the reverend everly thomas
The Brightest Fell, Seanan McGuire
Light, and the sound of bells: those were the things that Maeve had given to the pixies when she made them, intending for them to make her happy. Light and the sound of bells. That was what the Luidaeg had taken away.
Boy, Snow, Bird, Helen Oyeyemi
He thought she was sleeping and forced himself to place a hand on her shoulder. A snake's head glided out from between her lips, bright as new chainmail; he saw that its golden coils wound down her throat.
"You're wrapped around her heart," the magician said.
"I am the heart," the snake replied.
He left the farm without looking back.
Clara had a good heart, but goodness is independent from gentleness.
Duck, Duck, Goose, Hank Shaw
Cook at a jocular sizzle--not an inferno, not a gurgle. You will need to adjust the heat for this. I cook most of my duck breasts at medium heat. How long? It depends.
Salmon: A Cookbook, Diane Morgan
After a long day of work, sipping a glass of white wine while stirring risotto is relaxing.
An Ember in the Ashes, Sabaa Tahir
"You'll never forget them, not even after years. But one day, you'll go a whole minute without feeling the pain. Then an hour. A day. That's all you can ask for, really."
back ~ forward
archive ~ go to diaryland
"The theatre is an
empty box, and it is
our task to fill it
with fury and ecstasy."
Slings and Arrows
"City of Delusion,"
through the window