This was a brilliant book, definitely a must read. It charts the life of Harrison Shepard who was born in the US but moves to Mexico with his mother when she has an affair. As a character he comes across as a loner who we realize feels unsettled in either country due to his half US/half... read more
In a story told entirely through diary entries and letters, we meet Harrison William Shepherd, a half-Mexican, half-American boy who grows up with his mother in Mexico. He has no education, but his love of reading and writing nurtures his own inner dialog that leads to his success as a writer.... read more (warning: may contain spoilers)
“God speaks for the silent man.”
“Memories do not always soften with time; some grow edges like knives.”
“Mr. Shepherd, ye cannot stop a bad thought from coming into your head. But ye need not pull up a chair and bide it sit down.”Violet Brown
“This is what it means to be alone: everyone is connected to everyone else, their bodies are a bright, liquid life flowing around you, sharing a single heart that drives them to move all together. If the shark comes they will all escape, and leave you to be eaten.”
“I should like to write my books only for the dear person who lays awake reading in bed until page last, then lets the open book fall gently on her face, to touch her smile and drink her tears.”
“The most important thing about a person is always the thing you don't know.”
“(from the last page): People who might want to look back on those who labored and birthed the times they have inherited. But maybe that's wrong, and already we'll be a graveyard of weeds they won't want to visit. You, I mean to say. The times you have inherited. I wonder that: Who be ye?”Violet Brown
“We are bodies, sometimes with dreams and always with desires.”Frida
“The world revolution waits, while Trotsky gives his full attention to a shallow-thinking but hopeful fellow, because nothing wondrous can come in this world unless it rests on the shoulders of kindness.”
“An imperfectly remembered life is a useless treachery. Every day, more fragments of the past roll around heavily in the chambers of an empty brain, shedding bits of color, a sentence or a fragrance, something that changes and then disappears.”
“...mountains. They stand behind every view, like a mother offering a blanket in which to wrap everyday life and shelter it from useless dreads.”
“That you can't really know the person standing before you, because always there is always some missing piece....Something you never knew. That is the heart of the story.”
“Well, my stars, the thing was like the Bible – look hard enough in its pages, and you’ll find what you seek. Love your neighbor, or slay him with the jawbone of an ass.”Violet Brown
“Frida sat on a stone bench in the courtyard with her hair all cut off. It lay in thick black parentheses on the bricks, all around her feet.”
No, lacuna. He said it means a different thing from lagoon. Not a cave exactly but an opening, like a mouth, that swallows things.Highlighted by 715 Kindle customers
“Sóli, let me tell you. The most important thing about a person is always the thing you don’t know.”Highlighted by 590 Kindle customers
The radio is at the root of the evil, their rule is: No silence, ever. When anything happens, the commentator has to speak without a moment’s pause for gathering wisdom. Falsehood and inanity are preferable to silence. You can’t imagine the effect of this. The talkers are rising above the thinkers.Highlighted by 506 Kindle customers
Does a man become a revolutionary out of the belief he’s entitled to joy rather than submission?Highlighted by 493 Kindle customers
“Mr. Shepherd, ye cannot stop a bad thought from coming into your head. But ye need not pull up a chair and bide it sit down.”Highlighted by 491 Kindle customers
The notebook that burned, then. People who make a study of old documents have a name for this very kind of thing, a missing piece. A lacuna, it’s called. The hole in the story, and this one truly missing still, I know it is gone and won’t turn up later in any trunk, as that first little leather-bound one finally did.Highlighted by 446 Kindle customers
“The crucial missing piece of the manuscript. There’s a word for that, historians use. A lacuna. So blame it on fate and history, if you want.”Highlighted by 425 Kindle customers
An imperfectly remembered life is a useless treachery. Every day, more fragments of the past roll around heavily in the chambers of an empty brain, shedding bits of color, a sentence or a fragrance, something that changes and then disappears. It drops like a stone to the bottom of the cave.Highlighted by 421 Kindle customers
Zola wrote that the mendacity of the press could be divided into two groups: the yellow press lies every day without hesitating. But others, like the Times, speak the truth on all inconsequential occasions, so they can deceive the public with the requisite authority when it becomes necessary.”Highlighted by 371 Kindle customers
She is not a bulldog, only a woman pressed into the shape of a small jar, possibly attempting to dance in there. It shows in the way she places a seashell on a window sill, a red-painted chair in the corner: she is practiced in the art of creating a still life and taking up residence inside it.Highlighted by 257 Kindle customers
Part 1
Mexico, 1929-1931
Part 2
Washington, D.C.
Part 3
San Angel and Coyoacan
Part 4
Asheville, North Carolina
Part 5
Asheville, North Carolina
Loose Pages, Montford
Afterward, 1959
my copy has duplicate pages from 309-340...
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