I sat and read this last Sunday afternoon. It was very nice to sit and read in one go. I must admit I didn't like it quite as much as Habibi, there was the same style of lyrical writing but ultimately I found the ending a bit disappointing. The book was (I'm presumming) autobiographical about a young Christian named Craig drawing comics and trying to decide if he should join the ministry. There was a lot I really identified with, the strong Christian family, the small town and the hypocrisy that seemed to inhabit most of the Christians that were around. (As well as the not enjoying singing). The story mostly focused on his early relationship with his brother and then his first love. It was sweet and touching without being dramatic, looking back not much happened but it did capture the feeling of being isolated and lonley very well. I think one of my favourite moments was when Raina asked why the only time he ever talked about his brother was when they were little and how he went back and built up that relatinship again. I also really liked his depcition of Raina's special needs/DD sibilings. I loved how realistic it was, that the Downs brother wasn't a happy go lucky guy, but was moody, angry and jealous and had proper emotional reactions to what was happening in his life. I think it was the most realistic portrayal of someone with Downs I've ever seen. There were a lot of things that I really enjoyed about this book, but overall I didn't love it. I think the ending was a bit of a let down for me. Still one I'd recommend....Continua
“Sometimes, upon waking, the residual dream can be more appealing than reality, and one is reluctant to give it up.
For a while, you feel like a ghost… not fully materialized and unable to manipulate your surroundings.
Or else, it is the dream that hunt you. You wait with the promise of the next dream.
But the act of waking is dependent on remembering.
We use ritual as a mnemonic device…holiday as a ritual with meaning, and the season as increments of measurements.”
True...in the blanket, each of squares has a visual sound. They were arranged in a pattern, repeating themselves, They told a story, and the story was cyclical.
No matter where we’ve leave marks, no matter how temporary those marks are,
We’ve make our own map. That is life, this is who we are.