What do you think?
Rate this book
286 pages, Paperback
First published September 9, 2013
I felt like a bird who had wandered into some strange flock, surrounded by a different species.And again.
Instead, he said, in a careful voice, “So you are this bird. In this cage.”Katherine is a bird. She is trapped. She is in a cage. There is using an imagery to reach an effect, and then there is taking that imagery and beating the reader to death with it. This book does the latter. There is such an abuse of imagery.
“And you see only one option for yourself: to beat yourself against the bars until you are exhausted and give up all your dreams.”
“I feel caged. Always. I feel like I am this bird, trapped and stifled and caged, and I keep looking for a way to escape, but I am barred at every turn.”Katherine also loves birds. She loves their beauty. She loves their birdsong. The result of this bird fetish is the criminal overuse of bird-related imagery in this book. 167 instances of the word bird, a fair share of which referred to herself. I counted. I may be off by a few, I mean, I did count the number by hand.
“Your eyebrows,” His voice dropped to almost a whisper. “Perhaps it is their curve. They look like the wing of a bird in flight.”Her lovers can't even look at a fucking bird without thinking of her. God help them. How the fuck do they focus, living so close to nature in the wild moors of England?
“I can never look at a bird without thinking of you,” he said. “I wonder what you will do with your wings once you have found them."She feels a connection with them.
...the bird made no noise. I held my breath as I watched it and felt a connection with this dark, wild bird that I could not explain.Everything is birdlike. Even a fucking house looks like a bloody bird.
...the house looked to me like a hulking bird of prey, with wings unfolded, ready to drop from the precipice into the empty sky.Katherine wants to be called Kate.
“Mama! Kitty is being unkind again!”Please don't forget it.
“Kate,” I reminded her.
“Kate,” I whispered. “My name is Kate.”She is dead fucking serious.
“Kate,” I said, my own anger flaring. “My name is Kate.Seriously, it is KATE. Not KITTY. Do NOT call her that!
“My name,” I said in a low voice, “is not Kitty. It is Kate!” I marched past her.Don't you dare forget it.
At every possibility I faced another cage. I could be caged by my own betrayal of my feelings, or I could be caged by an unwanted marriage, or I could be caged by going nowhere and realizing none of my dreams.Understandable, yes, since there are so few options open to her. But there's the thing. I'm supposed to sympathize with her. I don't.
I stood, my music gripped to my chest, my face hot. “I do not think my goals, although they may be different from yours, can qualify as a waste—”Her mother is right. Katherine does not have a single fucking plan for life except to spend it doing whatever she pleases. She shirks responsibility, she has no true goal in life except to avoid love and marriage. And her reasons for avoiding love and marriage is utterly stupid and simple, juvenile. Her terrifyingly dramatic hatred of love is completely ludicrous. A childish revolt.
“Your goals! Oh, my, that is rich.” She paced in front of me, her shoes clicking hard with every step, as if she would stamp out my will and my voice too if she could. “What exactly are your goals?”
“You know my goals,” I muttered.
She stopped in front of me, her hands on her hips. “What goals? To disappoint? To waste precious resources? Is this why I have invested in you? To gain nothing in return but a silly girl who cares only for Blackmoore and Mozart?”
"Love is like a disease. It ravages. It maims. It destroys everything in its wake. I am wise to shun the idea of it, just as wise as if I were to avoid a plague. It is a weakness of the human heart to imagine that something that starts with passion can last. Passion is a fire that burns and leaves nothing standing in its wake. It is illogical and unreasonable. Love is the downfall of men and the entrapment of women. It is a cage that once one enters, one can never escape."AGAIN WITH THE MOTHERFUCKING CAGE.
“It sounds presumptuous.”And Juliet's kindness. Her charity, her suitability to be a good wife. Why, that fucking COW.
“Hmm.” Henry nodded. “Presumptuous.”
“Yes! As if she has something classical about her. As if she could be the star in a Shakespearean tragedy. It is entirely too presumptuous. Did her parents not think how they were setting her up for disappointment? For that is what I felt as soon as I met her—disappointment that she was so very bland.”
She would be proper and lovely and thoughtful and generous and absolutely predictable in every way. For all of these reasons, I heartily disliked her.Kate hates other women so much that I found myself hating her.
I wanted Miss St.Claire to know that she might have visited here first, but my heart had belonged here longer than hers. I was ten when Henry and she had met for the first time. I knew him long before she did, and better, too. I had loved Blackmoore long before she had even heard of it.Right. It's yours because you know it first.
"I wonder what you will do with your wings once you have found them. I wonder how far away they will take you. And I fear them, for my sake, at the same time that I hope for them, for yours." †
“I can never look at a bird without thinking of you," he said. "I wonder what you will do with your wings once you have found them. I wonder how far away they will take you. And I fear them, for my sake, at the same time that I hope for them, for yours.”
“I feel caged. Always. I feel like I am this bird, trapped and stifled and caged, and I keep looking for a way to escape, but I am barred at every turn.”