The Light Between Oceans: A Novel

by M.L. Stedman

For the briefest moment, he had no edges.

You don’t think ahead in years or months: you think about this hour, and maybe the next. Anything else is speculation.

It is a luxury to do something that serves no practical purpose: the luxury of civilization.

“Your family’s never in your past. You carry it around with you everywhere.”

“That’s a dangerous game to play, Isabel. You shouldn’t go running around kissing blokes out of the blue. Not unless you mean it.” “But I do mean it!”

Oh, bugger it.

“You’re my favorite. Better than all the stars put together.”

History is that which is agreed upon by mutual consent. That’s how life goes on—protected by the silence that anesthetizes shame.

Right and wrong can be like bloody snakes: so tangled up that you can’t tell which is which until you’ve shot ’em both, and then it’s too late.”

A lighthouse is for others; powerless to illuminate the space closest to it.

He struggles to make sense of it—all this love, so bent out of shape, refracted, like light through the lens.

We live with the decisions we make, Bill. That’s what bravery is. Standing by the consequences of your mistakes.”

You only have to forgive once. To resent, you have to do it all day, every day. You have to keep remembering all the bad things.”

“We always have a choice.”

I’ve learned the hard way that to have any kind of a future you’ve got to give up hope of ever changing your past.”