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384 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2008
More than ever, we are a messy nation of opposites, a rumbling extended family full of warring aunts and uncles, nieces holding grudges, stepsisters and half brothers, brothers and sisters who are inseparable and others who don't speak. In this election year, it seems that stark contrasts are the norm.
—pp.ix-x
True, America has become fearful of late, its doors have not been open to the world's huddled masses in the old, generous way, but still the world's stories somehow continue to make their journeys to America, and metamorphose, with remarkable ease, into new American tales.
—p.xii
{...} there was no such thing as safe, only safer {...}
—p.83
Why do they still live here? Their children are grown, the place is empty, the dog is old.George has no history of violence, but his gray adultery and tawdry mental illness, and the primacy of The City (New York City, that is) yet again... I remember thinking, is this the best that mimetic fiction has to offer?
—p.112
On the way, I stopped to visit my grandmother, who lived in a nursing home on West End Avenue. She no longer recognized me, but once I'd gotten over the sadness of this I found myself able to enjoy being with her.
—p.125
The only moment of disharmony came when I raised the subject of Neruda, the one Chilean poet I knew, to which Daniel responded with a flash of anger. Why is it, he asked, that wherever a Chilean goes in the world, Neruda and his fucking seashells have already been there and set up a monopoly?
—p.127
Meanwhile, every customer robbed us a little. At the cash registers we spoke sentences tailored to convey our disdain, in terms so subtle it was barely detectable. If our customers blinked a little at the insults we embedded in our thank-yous, we believed, they just might be worth of the marvels their grubby dollars entitled them to bear away.
—p.135
{...} we were also sure that sentences of the right quality could end this hideous endless war, if only certain standards were adopted at the higher levels. They never would be. All the media trumpeted the administration's lousy grammar.
—p.135
Except that escaping is its own special brand of pain, and tied to you always are the strings of the souls that didn't save themselves.
—p.157
"Pigs like American money."
—p.234
This time would be different, she was sure of it.
—p.262