I'm re-reading The Story Sisters by Alice Hoffman. According to Goodreads, I've been doing this since September 14, 2013. Sigh.
Reading a book for the second time is different than reading it for the first time. The first time is sensory, full of questions, the unknown beckons. The second time it's like: Your eyes are wide open. You know what's coming. You know where the tragedies are buried and the sweetness lives. And you're older, too. Maybe just a little bit, but still, you've changed.
Perhaps, this is why my second reading of The Story Sisters has been so halting. I'm feeling different about Elv. She was the dark heroine the first time I read the book, but now it's Claire. She's like a prism, her love for her mother and her sisters and her ama and her dog, refracting a color wheel of light.
Every day after school she went to the cemetery. While other girls were meeting boyfriends, going to dances, working on the school newspaper, Claire was walking through the wrought-iron gates.
Sometimes her grandmother feared that Claire was evaporating. What would be left of her if she kept disappearing into a smaller and smaller world of her own? Her shoes, her hat, her coat. Nothing more.
Customers listened to Claire's opinion. Her small sulky voice forced them to lean close in order to catch her advice. In the end they all understood what she was telling them: Stones were the only thing that lasted.
I think I've said this before: It's a bittersweet read. The finest dark chocolate for your kindle, nook, or iThingy…
Reunina Lee. I came to Rescue You.