The Wonder

by Emma Donoghue

But that was part of the definition of madness, Lib supposed, the refusal to accept that one was mad.

“Sometimes, when disaster strikes, there’s nothing to be done but begin all over again.”

Calm was crucial; a strident female voice caused men’s ears to close.

Everybody was a repository of secrets.

A mother understands what a child doesn’t say,

tale told by an idiot.

sometimes the teaching held more than the teacher knew.

That was part of motherhood, she supposed, bearing responsibility for pushing the child out of warm darkness into the dreadful brightness of new life.

None are so blind as those who will not see.