Thursday, July 19, 2007

Asian woman, mid 40s, with black pencil skirt and black blouse, collar up. She carries an old, out-of-place leather attaché, almost as if she's bringing it in to work for someone, maybe a colleague who'd come for a work dinner, stayed too late and rushed out to catch the last train, leaving the case behind. Along with this book?

Paula Spencer, Roddy Doyle (Knopf Canada)

Page 22:

Paula stared at the plate. And the piece of rind she'd taken out of her mouth a few minutes before. The crumbs, the bit of congealed butter that had dripped from the sandwich. She fixed her eyes on the plate.

He wasn't the sort to turn down seconds. She wasn't the sort to cook.

He wasn't the sort to loosen his tie. She wasn't the sort to change into something else.

He wasn't the sort to have a third drink. She wasn't the sort to open another bottle.

He wasn't the sort to cheat on his wife. She wasn't the sort to cheat on hers.


Hold Back The Rain said...

Oh my, a whole book about Paula Spencer? I'm delighted. :)

I always wondered what happened to her at the end of The Woman Who Walked Into Doors.

Julie Wilson said...

"The Woman Who Walked Into Doors"

Ahh, yes. My biography. :)

(Bit of a clutz. Somehow gracefully so. Nonetheless, baby go boom a fair bit.)