The wind has always dictated Vianne Rocher's every move, buffeting her from the French village of Lansquenet-sous-Tannes to the crowded streets of Paris. Cloaked in a new identity, that of widow Yanne Charbonneau, she opens a chocolaterie on a small Montmartre street, determined to still the... read more
Four years after the events of "Chocolat" an identity theft of the worse kind has donned a new persona and is flitting about Paris. She stumbles upon a chocolaterie run by the widow Charbobbeau--who is actually the new identity of Vianne Rocher, who has moved to Montmarte with her two... read more (warning: may contain spoilers)
“I remember being like that once. I remember that defiance. But motherhood changes everything. Motherhood makes cowards of us all. Cowards,liars—and sometimes worse.”Yanne Charbonneau
To be a mother is to live in fear. Fear of death, of sickness, of loss, of accidents, of strangers, of the Black Man, or simply those small everyday things that somehow manage to hurt us most: the look of impatience, the angry word, the missed bedtime story, the forgotten kiss, the terrible moment when a mother ceases to be the center of her daughter’s world and becomes just another satellite orbiting some less significant sun.Highlighted by 12 Kindle customers
Wind was important to the Aztecs; more so than rain, even more important than the sun. Because wind means change; and without change, the world will die.”Highlighted by 11 Kindle customers
Life is extraordinary. We are extraordinary. To embrace the extraordinary is to celebrate life.Highlighted by 10 Kindle customers
But a name is never just a name. To name a thing is to give it power, to invest it with an emotional significanceHighlighted by 9 Kindle customers
Two winds, if you like, blowing in opposite directions. One wind takes you to what you want. The other one drives you from what you fear. And people like us have to make a choice. To ride the wind, or to let it ride you.”Highlighted by 9 Kindle customers
Children are knives, my mother once said. They don’t mean to, but they cut. And yet we cling to them, don’t we, we clasp them until the blood flows.Highlighted by 8 Kindle customers
There’s an old story my mother used to tell, about a boy who sold his shadow to a peddler on the road in exchange for the gift of eternal life.Highlighted by 8 Kindle customers
Too much ballast slows you down—but too little and I could blow away like a dandelion seed, losing myself forever on the wind.Highlighted by 8 Kindle customers
“There’s no such thing as magic,” I said. “Then call it something else.” She shrugged. “Call it attitude, if you like. Call it charisma, or chutzpah, or glamour, or charm. Because basically it’s just about standing straight, looking people in the eye, shooting them a killer smile, and saying, fuck off, I’m fabulous.”Highlighted by 8 Kindle customers
Show me a mother, and I’ll show you a liar. We tell them how the world should be: that there are no such things as monsters or ghosts; that if you do good, then people will do good to you; that Mother will always be there to protect you. Of course we never call them lies—we mean so well, it’s all for the best—but that’s what they are, nevertheless.Highlighted by 7 Kindle customers
Acknowledgments xi
Part 1 Death 1
Part 2 One Jaguar 35
Part 3 Two Rabbit 89
Part 4 Change 131
Part 5 Advent 183
Part 6 The Kindly Ones 259
Part 7 The Tower 329
Part 8 Yule 381
Preceded by Chocolat, and followed by Peaches for Monsieur le Curé.
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