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abbywebb's review against another edition
4.0
Humourous. Raw. Entertaining. Unsettling. Honest. Emotional. Frustrating. Poetic. Endearing.
These are just some of many words to describe this book. It is yet another wonderful work of fiction by fellow Winnipegger Miriam Toews.
The book is written in such a way that I was sure that I could write myself in at any moment and it wouldn't have hindered the story. It was such a dysfunctional family that I actually felt that I might belong among them.
This is a brilliant book that should be read by all. Also, if you haven't read A Complicated Kindness by Toews, be sure to check that one out as well. I wish I was able to give this book half stars because it is definitely worth at least 4 and a half! Can't wait to read her other books...
These are just some of many words to describe this book. It is yet another wonderful work of fiction by fellow Winnipegger Miriam Toews.
The book is written in such a way that I was sure that I could write myself in at any moment and it wouldn't have hindered the story. It was such a dysfunctional family that I actually felt that I might belong among them.
This is a brilliant book that should be read by all. Also, if you haven't read A Complicated Kindness by Toews, be sure to check that one out as well. I wish I was able to give this book half stars because it is definitely worth at least 4 and a half! Can't wait to read her other books...
danidamico's review against another edition
3.5
Esta es mi segunda lectura de Miriam Toews. La primera fue All My Puny Sorrows, que amé. En este caso, debo decir que The Flying Troutmans quedó a medio camino para mí. Si bien tiene el abordaje de salud mental y vínculos familiares que tanto me gusta en la autora, no llegué a conectar del todo con los personajes y había cosas que eran demasiado ~quirky~ para mi gusto. Siento que el mundo se divide en los que aman a Thebes y los que piensan que es insoportable. Claramente pertenezco al segundo grupo. El personaje de Logan me pareció interesante, sobre todo porque Toews no suele escribir protagonistas masculinos, pero acá funciona muy bien. En fin, disfruté la novela pero no llegó a conmoverme ni interpelarme tanto como mi primera lectura de la autora. Seguiré buscando entre sus otras novelas.
madmooney's review against another edition
5.0
An Paris-living aunt is summoned to Canada after being informed by her niece Thebes & nephew Logan that her sister, Min, is not doing well, and in a depressive, catatonic state. After placing her sister in some round-the-clock care (this is just another of Min's fugue states - all will be well in a few weeks), she decides to take Thebes and Logan on a road trip to find their estranged father so he can help.
I was able to complete Toews' [b:The Flying Troutmans|2940207|The Flying Troutmans|Miriam Toews|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1377628484l/2940207._SY75_.jpg|2969638] in a single sitting, and this is a testament to how very readable the book is. It oozes quirk, and it truly feels like it is coming from a genuine place (I have been told that complicated relations between sisters is very much a part of her oeuvre, drawn from her personal life). Even the niblings feel so real!
Someone may approach you and tell you this title is about a dysfunctional famliy as a hook to pitch the reco your way; yes the book does deal with non-traditional family structures, complicated relationships, and mental illness - but it is not *that* sort of book at all. A perfect vacation read.
I want vascillating between this title and [b:Women Talking|40046077|Women Talking|Miriam Toews|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1530534348l/40046077._SY75_.jpg|59561467] as my next Canadiana read (wanted to read and watch the adaptation of the latter prior to the Oscars) and I am so very glad that I went with this one!
I was able to complete Toews' [b:The Flying Troutmans|2940207|The Flying Troutmans|Miriam Toews|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1377628484l/2940207._SY75_.jpg|2969638] in a single sitting, and this is a testament to how very readable the book is. It oozes quirk, and it truly feels like it is coming from a genuine place (I have been told that complicated relations between sisters is very much a part of her oeuvre, drawn from her personal life). Even the niblings feel so real!
Someone may approach you and tell you this title is about a dysfunctional famliy as a hook to pitch the reco your way; yes the book does deal with non-traditional family structures, complicated relationships, and mental illness - but it is not *that* sort of book at all. A perfect vacation read.
I want vascillating between this title and [b:Women Talking|40046077|Women Talking|Miriam Toews|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1530534348l/40046077._SY75_.jpg|59561467] as my next Canadiana read (wanted to read and watch the adaptation of the latter prior to the Oscars) and I am so very glad that I went with this one!
ldpac's review against another edition
2.0
I loved A Complicated Kindness, but for me Flying Troutmans fell far short. The quirkiness that I found in CK, seemed forced in FT. I really didn't care about the characters in FT; they seemed to be shallow and not fleshed out.
halldanalouise's review against another edition
emotional
funny
hopeful
sad
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
poledancingdinos's review against another edition
3.0
This is a good book even if at times it can be a little cuckoo. This is still a heartworming story.
glendonrfrank's review against another edition
3.0
Love Toews with all my heart but this mostly felt like a series of vignettes and ideas that would be better rendered in Fight Night and All My Puny Sorrows.
A few moments jump out as truly fantastic - middle-of-the-road Toews is still deeply good - but mostly I think it felt aimless in a way that reads as less intentional than her other novels. The flashbacks feel peppered in out of necessity instead of a strong sense of emotional purpose, and the narrative itself feels it lacks momentum despite having all sorts of things that could be directing it. The penultimate chapter has a curveball that you could spend an entire novel unpacking but it feels included more out of obligation than anything else because none of the characters dwell on it. Logan, at least, is a fun and compelling inclusion, if only because Toews doesn't tend to give a ton of focus to male characters.
A few moments jump out as truly fantastic - middle-of-the-road Toews is still deeply good - but mostly I think it felt aimless in a way that reads as less intentional than her other novels. The flashbacks feel peppered in out of necessity instead of a strong sense of emotional purpose, and the narrative itself feels it lacks momentum despite having all sorts of things that could be directing it. The penultimate chapter has a curveball that you could spend an entire novel unpacking but it feels included more out of obligation than anything else because none of the characters dwell on it. Logan, at least, is a fun and compelling inclusion, if only because Toews doesn't tend to give a ton of focus to male characters.
smalltownbookmom's review
3.0
Was a cute story. Didn't love it or hate it. Feel like it would have been a fun movie.
floralfox's review against another edition
5.0
The Flying Troutmans is a novel about an eccentric aunt named Hattie and her eccentric 11-year-old niece Thebes and less eccentric but very troublesome 15-year-old nephew Logan. They are on a road trip to find their father, who left them at the insistence of their mentally ill mother, who is at the beginning of the novel, institutionalized again because she wants to die. Hattie, her sister, struggles with this throughout the book: What does it mean to love her sister? Does it mean she lets her go? Or does it mean she makes her fight? The book is charming, funny, and beautiful as it tries to answer that question: how to love someone with depression best? How there is no simple answer, neither for Min or for Hattie, and how in the face of that you can love honestly, strangely, and imperfectly, the people around you.
Favorite quotes:
But you're not that old, said Thebes, right? You can still find someone if you look hard. How old are you?
Twenty-eight, I said.
Okay, twenty-eight, she said. She thought for a second. You have like two years, she said. Maybe you should dress up more, though.
Then Thebes went into this strange kind of commentary thing she does, quoting the imaginary people in her head. This time it was a funeral director I think. She said: With an impact this severe there is not a hope of reconstructing this kid's face. She banged the back window with her fist.
What was that? I asked her.
The lid of my coffin slamming down, she said. Closed casket. I'll be unrecognizable anyway.
Don't worry about a thing, [Logan] told her. She looked up at him. You'll be back, he said. You'll get better. He stared out the window and smiled and drummed his fingers against the class and cleared his throat several times. He stroked Min's hair, awkwardly, beautifully, and then stopped but didn't seem to know where to put his hand. I drove and Thebes rode shotgun, and she told me that I was an excellent driver, very prudent, very defensive, everyone should drive as well as I do, and then looked over her shoulder at Logan, who didn't notice because he was busy trying to hide his tears.
Thebes and I lay down on the living room floor and talked. Well, she talked. She talked about her friends. We're all mostly white nerds, she said, with minor physical and emotional flaws that do not require medication but do brand us as losers in the bigger picture.
Please help me die, is what [Min'd] actually whispered in my ear. And I had said, No, never. Was that the right thing to say? I don't know.
A nurse buzzed us in but with the very least amount of enthusiasm I have ever witnessed within the helping profession.
Logan: Do you even know what The Deuce is?
Me: No, a gang?
Logan: Yeah. So did you know their colour is baby blue?
Me: Oh, that's perfect.
Logan: What do you mean?
Me: The irony of it.
Logan: No. It's just their colour.
Me: Well, it's a nice one.
I stared straight ahead into the great nation of America, waiting for the onset of dogs and AK-47s.
Thebes picked up a book and lay down in the back seat. What are you reading? I asked her.
Corporate Media: Threat to Democracy, she said.
We drove straight south into the heartland. Billboards told us not to abort our fetuses or to let our sins get us down or to worry about our bad credit and criminal records. For instant cash all we had to do was call a certain number. Bingo.
When we got to the room we stood next to the bed and stared at it. Thebes still had half-moons of dried blood around the edges of her nostrils from being hit in the face with the Frisbee. Do you ever wash? I asked her. Am I supposed to tell you to?
Then Thebes went over to the van and took out a giant novelty cheque she'd made for Logan. It was about four feet long. She'd made it with cardboard and markers and Popsickle sticks for ballast on the back so it wouldn't bend. She brought it over to us and looked at Logan, who squinted up at her, one hand blocking the sun that made her look like she was on fire.
I'd like to present this to you, Logan, for... I'm not sure what, she said.
She just likes making oversized novelty cheques, he explained to me. I get them all the time. How much is it worth? he asked her.
One million dollars, she said. Congratulations for being my brother.
What eventually happened? I asked Logan.
Nothing, he said.
That's the case so often, isn't it, I said.
Not really, said Logan. Often things do eventually happen.
Well, there's that, I said. You guys still friends?
Of course! said Logan. What do you think?
I loved that. I loved that Logan and his friends could plot secretly to kidnap another friend of theirs, scare the hell out of him, probably almost suffocate him, definitely scrape him up a bit by throwing him around and everything, get his parents on their asses, not to mention the law, and still come out, natch, as friends! Beautiful.
Hey, [Thebes] said, are you in a fight club?
You mean like the movie? he said.
Yeah, whatever, she said.
You mean like the movie Fight Club? he said.
Yeah, or you know, a variation on the theme, she said.
A variation on the theme of the movie Fight Club? he said.
Yeah! Like some local chapter, she said. You know? Starring Brad Pitt? Are you?
Am I a member of a local chapter that is a variation on the theme of the movie Fight Club starring Brad Pitt? he asked.
Thebes said she would rather rewrite the Ten Commandments on a piece of dark blue construction paper with her special gold glitter pen.
Then fucking do it already! I said. I immediately apologized.
It's okay, said Thebes. Those are just words. Language isn't real.
A woman at the store had looked at Thebes and then at me and had said I should comb that girl's hair ... was it purple? And what kind of mother was I?
Um, inferior? I said.
I didn't know what else to say. I had waned Logan to understand that Cherkis hadn't decided one morning on a whim to leave his family, to blithely take off for something better and more exciting and leave his kids confused and angry and sad, but that in fact Min had forced him to leave. But I also didn't want Logan to be angry with Min for making Cherkis go away. Cherkis had tried hard to ride the tsunami waves of Min's moods and he'd managed for quite a long time, way longer than my parents and I had ever hoped for. Min resented his car, in the same way that she hated mine and anybody else's. but what were the people who loved her supposed to do? Tell her to go right ahead and starve herself, no big whoop, whatever, we don't care if you disintegrate right before our eyes. Yeah, polish off that giant bottle of sleeping pills all at once, do it, we can use the container for something else. How do you love someone who wants to be left alone to die? How do you stay? How do you walk away?
Hey, said Thebes, How did you know that was air conditioner fluid?
I tasted it, I said.
Logan looked at me and frowned. That might have seemed like a really good idea at the time, he said, but maybe you should have taken a minute or even possibly two minutes to think about what you were doing.
What do you guys think about setting yourself on fire as a means of protest? [Thebes] asked. Quiet for another minute. We didn't bother to answer.
Okay, Hattie, she said, you're a Gemini and that's an air sign, which means you live more in yur head than in your heart and you should try to remember and understand that all of humanity is interconnected and you should also try to be at one with the world and know that if you hurt somebody you're also hurting yourself.
Got it, I said, although I thought it would be easier to light myself on fire.
No, a fifteen-year-old cannot live on his own, I said.
Pippi Longstocking wasn't even fifteen, said Thebes, and she--
Yeah, but she was a character in a book, I said.
And she was Swedish, said Logan.
So there would have been a solid safety net of social programs to help keep her afloat, I said. It doesn't work here.
Yeah, but the point of Pippi was that she didn't need anybody or any social programs to help her, said Logan. She was that strong.
Yeah, I said, but unhumanly so. She could lift a horse. Can you?
Well, I don't know, said Logan. A small one maybe.
You could so not life a horse, said Thebes.
Yeah, I probably could, said Logan.
No you couldn't, she said. But I could probably flip a horse.
I could eat a horse, said Logan.
Oh, the things they could do to horses.
Min had once put me in a body cast, for a school art project. I'd been so eager and excited when she'd asked me to help her out. Our parents were away for the weekend and Min relished being in charge.
I wore my bathing suit, and she slathered two giant jars of Vaseline that she'd bought onto my body, and then she stuck layers and layers of plaster on me and told me I'd have to wait for two hours until it had hardened and then she'd cut it off and I'd be free. She told me she had to zip out for a few minutes to buy something, but she didn't come back until the next day and I was left alone in the house in a body cast, unable to move. I stood in the middle of the living room for a long time, and then I tipped myself over onto the floor and lay there trying not to cry because I didn't want the salt in my tears to make me thirstier than I already was.
At first it was great but then the pastor of the church told the congregation that they were going to start locking the doors of the church during the Sunday sermon because prostitutes were coming in off the street to warm up in the lobby and kids in the hood were coming in off the street to steal coats from the cloakroom.
Min was enraged. Since when does a church lock its doors, and especially to the community's most vulnerable individuals? The next Sunday she brought a lawn chair and plunked it down by the front door, which she'd propped open with a sign that said All Are Welcome, and then, clipboard in hand, counted the number of prostitutes and street kids and other disenfranchised folks entering the church.
None! Zero. She did this Sunday after Sunday, there was no thieving going on at all, and then, when her good work was finished, she stormed the pulpit in the middle of his sermon, grabbed the mike and presented her findings to the entire assembly and said if this was Christianity she didn't want any part of it, she'd rather sell her ass for crack.
Okay, yeah, he said. But the thing is, and don't like, don't think I'm, you know, mad at your or anything, or hurt, or whatever, but the thing is, you don't... like, you don't want us, right? He looked at me and smiled. A genuine, beautiful smile that I think was meant to absolve me of any guilt but instead made me want to kill myself.
I don't know what to say about the Grand Canyon that the name itself doesn't evoke. It's big and deep and brown.
I wandered down the road and passed a bunch of other cheap motels and cheesy chain restaurants and closed gas stations. If there had been a church I'd have gone inside and prayed. I would have said please bring the little fucker back safe and sound, God, I mean it. But instead the most I could do was say his name over and over. Logan, I whispered. Logan, Logan, Logan. Where the hell are you? I passed a panhandler sitting under a streetlight at an intersection and he had a sign that said Need 37 Million Dollars for Trip to Space. I could get behind that. I gave him two bucks.
Hey, come over here, I said, and led her by the hand to the window. See, I said, look at that. I pointed to the sun the way Adam had earlier directed me to the moon. Over there, I said. I didn't know what to say but I kept talking. It's coming up, I said. It's shining like a champ. I didn't know what to do besides pointing out something that was constant in her life, even if it was only an uninhabitable ball of fire that you couldn't look at without flinching or experiencing pain.
I thought of those cheesy Love is... cartoons. Love is... killing your sister when she asks you to? Love is... refusing to kill your sister when she asks you to? I had trouble deciding between leaded and unleaded at the gas station and skim and 2% at the 7-Eleven, how was I supposed to choose the definition of my love for Min?
We sat on a rock in the rain and I tried to think of something to say that would comfort him, something true.
Favorite quotes:
But you're not that old, said Thebes, right? You can still find someone if you look hard. How old are you?
Twenty-eight, I said.
Okay, twenty-eight, she said. She thought for a second. You have like two years, she said. Maybe you should dress up more, though.
Then Thebes went into this strange kind of commentary thing she does, quoting the imaginary people in her head. This time it was a funeral director I think. She said: With an impact this severe there is not a hope of reconstructing this kid's face. She banged the back window with her fist.
What was that? I asked her.
The lid of my coffin slamming down, she said. Closed casket. I'll be unrecognizable anyway.
Don't worry about a thing, [Logan] told her. She looked up at him. You'll be back, he said. You'll get better. He stared out the window and smiled and drummed his fingers against the class and cleared his throat several times. He stroked Min's hair, awkwardly, beautifully, and then stopped but didn't seem to know where to put his hand. I drove and Thebes rode shotgun, and she told me that I was an excellent driver, very prudent, very defensive, everyone should drive as well as I do, and then looked over her shoulder at Logan, who didn't notice because he was busy trying to hide his tears.
Thebes and I lay down on the living room floor and talked. Well, she talked. She talked about her friends. We're all mostly white nerds, she said, with minor physical and emotional flaws that do not require medication but do brand us as losers in the bigger picture.
Please help me die, is what [Min'd] actually whispered in my ear. And I had said, No, never. Was that the right thing to say? I don't know.
A nurse buzzed us in but with the very least amount of enthusiasm I have ever witnessed within the helping profession.
Logan: Do you even know what The Deuce is?
Me: No, a gang?
Logan: Yeah. So did you know their colour is baby blue?
Me: Oh, that's perfect.
Logan: What do you mean?
Me: The irony of it.
Logan: No. It's just their colour.
Me: Well, it's a nice one.
I stared straight ahead into the great nation of America, waiting for the onset of dogs and AK-47s.
Thebes picked up a book and lay down in the back seat. What are you reading? I asked her.
Corporate Media: Threat to Democracy, she said.
We drove straight south into the heartland. Billboards told us not to abort our fetuses or to let our sins get us down or to worry about our bad credit and criminal records. For instant cash all we had to do was call a certain number. Bingo.
When we got to the room we stood next to the bed and stared at it. Thebes still had half-moons of dried blood around the edges of her nostrils from being hit in the face with the Frisbee. Do you ever wash? I asked her. Am I supposed to tell you to?
Then Thebes went over to the van and took out a giant novelty cheque she'd made for Logan. It was about four feet long. She'd made it with cardboard and markers and Popsickle sticks for ballast on the back so it wouldn't bend. She brought it over to us and looked at Logan, who squinted up at her, one hand blocking the sun that made her look like she was on fire.
I'd like to present this to you, Logan, for... I'm not sure what, she said.
She just likes making oversized novelty cheques, he explained to me. I get them all the time. How much is it worth? he asked her.
One million dollars, she said. Congratulations for being my brother.
What eventually happened? I asked Logan.
Nothing, he said.
That's the case so often, isn't it, I said.
Not really, said Logan. Often things do eventually happen.
Well, there's that, I said. You guys still friends?
Of course! said Logan. What do you think?
I loved that. I loved that Logan and his friends could plot secretly to kidnap another friend of theirs, scare the hell out of him, probably almost suffocate him, definitely scrape him up a bit by throwing him around and everything, get his parents on their asses, not to mention the law, and still come out, natch, as friends! Beautiful.
Hey, [Thebes] said, are you in a fight club?
You mean like the movie? he said.
Yeah, whatever, she said.
You mean like the movie Fight Club? he said.
Yeah, or you know, a variation on the theme, she said.
A variation on the theme of the movie Fight Club? he said.
Yeah! Like some local chapter, she said. You know? Starring Brad Pitt? Are you?
Am I a member of a local chapter that is a variation on the theme of the movie Fight Club starring Brad Pitt? he asked.
Thebes said she would rather rewrite the Ten Commandments on a piece of dark blue construction paper with her special gold glitter pen.
Then fucking do it already! I said. I immediately apologized.
It's okay, said Thebes. Those are just words. Language isn't real.
A woman at the store had looked at Thebes and then at me and had said I should comb that girl's hair ... was it purple? And what kind of mother was I?
Um, inferior? I said.
I didn't know what else to say. I had waned Logan to understand that Cherkis hadn't decided one morning on a whim to leave his family, to blithely take off for something better and more exciting and leave his kids confused and angry and sad, but that in fact Min had forced him to leave. But I also didn't want Logan to be angry with Min for making Cherkis go away. Cherkis had tried hard to ride the tsunami waves of Min's moods and he'd managed for quite a long time, way longer than my parents and I had ever hoped for. Min resented his car, in the same way that she hated mine and anybody else's. but what were the people who loved her supposed to do? Tell her to go right ahead and starve herself, no big whoop, whatever, we don't care if you disintegrate right before our eyes. Yeah, polish off that giant bottle of sleeping pills all at once, do it, we can use the container for something else. How do you love someone who wants to be left alone to die? How do you stay? How do you walk away?
Hey, said Thebes, How did you know that was air conditioner fluid?
I tasted it, I said.
Logan looked at me and frowned. That might have seemed like a really good idea at the time, he said, but maybe you should have taken a minute or even possibly two minutes to think about what you were doing.
What do you guys think about setting yourself on fire as a means of protest? [Thebes] asked. Quiet for another minute. We didn't bother to answer.
Okay, Hattie, she said, you're a Gemini and that's an air sign, which means you live more in yur head than in your heart and you should try to remember and understand that all of humanity is interconnected and you should also try to be at one with the world and know that if you hurt somebody you're also hurting yourself.
Got it, I said, although I thought it would be easier to light myself on fire.
No, a fifteen-year-old cannot live on his own, I said.
Pippi Longstocking wasn't even fifteen, said Thebes, and she--
Yeah, but she was a character in a book, I said.
And she was Swedish, said Logan.
So there would have been a solid safety net of social programs to help keep her afloat, I said. It doesn't work here.
Yeah, but the point of Pippi was that she didn't need anybody or any social programs to help her, said Logan. She was that strong.
Yeah, I said, but unhumanly so. She could lift a horse. Can you?
Well, I don't know, said Logan. A small one maybe.
You could so not life a horse, said Thebes.
Yeah, I probably could, said Logan.
No you couldn't, she said. But I could probably flip a horse.
I could eat a horse, said Logan.
Oh, the things they could do to horses.
Min had once put me in a body cast, for a school art project. I'd been so eager and excited when she'd asked me to help her out. Our parents were away for the weekend and Min relished being in charge.
I wore my bathing suit, and she slathered two giant jars of Vaseline that she'd bought onto my body, and then she stuck layers and layers of plaster on me and told me I'd have to wait for two hours until it had hardened and then she'd cut it off and I'd be free. She told me she had to zip out for a few minutes to buy something, but she didn't come back until the next day and I was left alone in the house in a body cast, unable to move. I stood in the middle of the living room for a long time, and then I tipped myself over onto the floor and lay there trying not to cry because I didn't want the salt in my tears to make me thirstier than I already was.
At first it was great but then the pastor of the church told the congregation that they were going to start locking the doors of the church during the Sunday sermon because prostitutes were coming in off the street to warm up in the lobby and kids in the hood were coming in off the street to steal coats from the cloakroom.
Min was enraged. Since when does a church lock its doors, and especially to the community's most vulnerable individuals? The next Sunday she brought a lawn chair and plunked it down by the front door, which she'd propped open with a sign that said All Are Welcome, and then, clipboard in hand, counted the number of prostitutes and street kids and other disenfranchised folks entering the church.
None! Zero. She did this Sunday after Sunday, there was no thieving going on at all, and then, when her good work was finished, she stormed the pulpit in the middle of his sermon, grabbed the mike and presented her findings to the entire assembly and said if this was Christianity she didn't want any part of it, she'd rather sell her ass for crack.
Okay, yeah, he said. But the thing is, and don't like, don't think I'm, you know, mad at your or anything, or hurt, or whatever, but the thing is, you don't... like, you don't want us, right? He looked at me and smiled. A genuine, beautiful smile that I think was meant to absolve me of any guilt but instead made me want to kill myself.
I don't know what to say about the Grand Canyon that the name itself doesn't evoke. It's big and deep and brown.
I wandered down the road and passed a bunch of other cheap motels and cheesy chain restaurants and closed gas stations. If there had been a church I'd have gone inside and prayed. I would have said please bring the little fucker back safe and sound, God, I mean it. But instead the most I could do was say his name over and over. Logan, I whispered. Logan, Logan, Logan. Where the hell are you? I passed a panhandler sitting under a streetlight at an intersection and he had a sign that said Need 37 Million Dollars for Trip to Space. I could get behind that. I gave him two bucks.
Hey, come over here, I said, and led her by the hand to the window. See, I said, look at that. I pointed to the sun the way Adam had earlier directed me to the moon. Over there, I said. I didn't know what to say but I kept talking. It's coming up, I said. It's shining like a champ. I didn't know what to do besides pointing out something that was constant in her life, even if it was only an uninhabitable ball of fire that you couldn't look at without flinching or experiencing pain.
I thought of those cheesy Love is... cartoons. Love is... killing your sister when she asks you to? Love is... refusing to kill your sister when she asks you to? I had trouble deciding between leaded and unleaded at the gas station and skim and 2% at the 7-Eleven, how was I supposed to choose the definition of my love for Min?
We sat on a rock in the rain and I tried to think of something to say that would comfort him, something true.
mariew11's review against another edition
emotional
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
2.0