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Kindle Notes & Highlights
The Emperor was Rae’s favourite character of all time because he never brooded over his dark past. He used his unholy powers and enormous sword to slaughter his enemies, then moved on.
Finding a favourite character was discovering a soul made of words that spoke to your own.
Imagine a big adventure instead of hospital walls closing in and life narrowing down to nothing. Being not an escape artist but an art escapist, running away to imaginary lands.
Being inside a book was an intensely surreal experience, but so was enduring a hospital visit that involved a huge curly straw inserted into her veins as though Rae was a giant milkshake. Over her last three years, Rae had learned not to fuss and scream that ‘this couldn’t be happening’. If you woke up in a nightmare, you dealt with it.
A long-ago teacher had told Rae stories were created by villains. Their desires and evil deeds ignited the plot, while the hero only wanted to stop them. At least to begin with, villains were in charge.
Betray desperation, and you invite cruelty.
“If you ask me, she’s too good for him.” “He’s the supreme monarch of our land, and she’s a treacherous witch whose sins scream to the sky for the gods to strike her down.” Key nodded approval. “I do like her.
“Have you never considered art grants us the impossible? Art opens a door into someone else’s imagination and lets us walk through. Art is the dreamed-of escape. Art lets the dead speak and the living laugh. Art takes you away from pain when no medicine can save you. Art is the first and last word. Art is the final consolation.”
“Evil wins again!” “When did evil win last time?” Key had a point. Evil didn’t win often in stories. Usually good triumphed, but that meant the forces of darkness were statistically due a win.
A conversation sofa was two attached seats facing in opposite directions so you could whisper in someone’s ear.
“I can’t believe you thought you could have a snake theme and be a hero.” That was so naive. At least seventy per cent of villainy was the aesthetic.
For a famous coward, the Cobra seemed oddly unconcerned about the threat to his own life. Instead he chose to be overly invested in fictional characters’ feelings. Media was meant to be consumed, not consume you. The Cobra’s priorities had got twisted.
It was too early for vile debauchery.
A girl on Rae’s cheerleading team said Rae shouldn’t be so angry, as if anger was a sin and not a consequence of mistreatment.
Everyone lived in their own reality, and could never invite anybody else in. Ultimately each person was alone, the only real person in a vast desert of a universe, always longing and never able to find someone to believe in. If they ever did believe, they were deceived.
She might be an ice-hearted little schemer, but she was loyal. Cold hearts could still be gold.
