East Indian woman, mid 20s, wearing beaded tank top and loose jeans, sifting through sale titles, considering each book with great care as if assigning each one to a future weekend.
Open, Lisa Moore (House of Anansi Press)
Page 26:At the kitchen table at home in St. John's. The tablecloth is gone; the table is red, bright red enamel paint, and there is the creamer, full of milk. The kitchen is pumpkin, forest green cupboards. The kitchen screams. My hands are on the table in front of me. I want to throw the creamer. Milk fluttering over your head, a long ribbon of surrender. It is a huge effort not to give in and throw it. Then my fist slams.
It's a strange feeling, riding the subway each morning, the book bags, the sleepy eyes, the lingering odour of cheap pitchers of beer, all tell-tale signs of students back to school. A strange feeling now that she's done, off to work, and the words that stream across the pages of the book settled in her purse will only revisit the world through word-of-mouth, not for grade.
Monday, October 01, 2007
Word On The Street, Booth 175
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1 comment:
Nicely done--you've captured well that moment when adult reading takes over for student reading. At first, I remember, it felt like an extended summer, reading not on orders but simply because it's what I do with my time. All these years later, it's lost its association with summer; it's just life, but no less wonderful.
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