A review by lory_enterenchanted
Spare by Prince Harry

challenging dark emotional funny hopeful informative inspiring reflective sad tense

3.75

"I suppose I knew the truth deep in my heart. The illusion of Mummy hiding, preparing to return, was never so real that it could blot out reality entirely. But it blotted it out enough that I was able to postpone the bulk of my grief. I still hadn't mourned, still hadn't cried, except that one time at her grae, sill hadn't processed the bare facts. Part of my brain knew, but part of it was wholly insulated, and the division between these two parts kept the parliament of my consciousness divided, polarized, gridlocked. Just as I wanted it." Part 1 Ch 31

"In between the runs we'd drag our bodies up ropes, or hurl them at walls, or ram them against each other. At night something more than pain would creep into our bones. It was a deep, shuddering throb. There was no way to survive that throb except to dissociate from it, tell your mind that you were not it. Sunder your mind from yourself. The color sergeants said this was part of their Grand Plan. Kill the Self." Part 1 Ch. 54

"I'd never asked to be financially dependent on Pa. I'd been forced into this surreal state, this unending Truman Show in which I almost never used money, never owned a car, never carried a house key, never once ordered anything online, never received a single box from Amazon, almost never traveled on the Underground. (once at Eton, on a theater trip.) Sponge, the papers called me. But there's a big difference between being a sponge and being prohibited from learning independence. After decades of being rigorously and systematically infantilized, I was now abruptly abandoned, and mocked for being immature? For not standing on my own two feet?" Part 3 Ch 81

"They began talking over each other. We've been down this road a hundred times, they said. You're delusional, Harry. But they were the delusional ones." Part 3 Ch 86

"How lost we are, I thought. How far we've strayed. How much damage has been done to our love, our bond, and why? All because a dreadful mob of dweebs and crones and cut-rate criminals and clinically diagnosable sadists along Fleet Street feel the need to get their jollies and plump their profits -- and work out their personal issues -- by tormenting one very large, very ancient, very dysfunctional family." Part 3 Ch 86

[After describing a rare moment of sharing intimacy with William, after a hunt] "But now I saw that even our finest moments, and my best memories, somehow involved death. Our lives were built on death, our brightest days shadowed by it. Looking back, I didn't see spots of time, but dances with death. I saw how we steeped ourselves in it. We christened and crowned, graduated and married, passed out and passed over our beloveds' bones. Windsor Castle itself was a tomb, the walls filled with ancestors. The Tower of London was held together with the blood of animals, used by the original builders a thousand years ago to temper the mortar between the bricks. Outsiders called us a cult, but maybe we were a death cult, and wasn't that a little bit more depraved? ... Willy was still talking, Pa was talking over him and I could no longer hear a word they said. I was already gone, already on my way to California, a voice in my head saying: Enough death--enough. When is someone in this family going to break free and live?" Part 3 Ch 86