Lately my train rides have passed without complaint, thanks to Leah Hager Cohen’s The Grief of Others. I’ve managed to keep up my late night and I-wish-my-commute-was-longer reading sessions from Perrotta’s The Leftovers on into this next book.
I’m a little over halfway through, and I anticipate having a review ready and up in the next couple weeks, but in the meantime I thought I’d drop a few tasty morsels that I jotted down hurriedly yesterday afternoon.
The vast spearmint distance she felt between herself and everyone — everything — else was almost, she imagined, what royals must feel, and forevermore Ricky would link mourning with royalty, and royalty with mourning; for the rest of her days, the words king and queen would remind her of deep sorrow.
– The Grief of Others, page 135
And, possible spoiler alert!
The blow of discovery had been oddly somatic, like a two-by-four to the groin, and it was compounded by the awful banality of the sequence: suspicion, inquiry, denial, retreat; suspicion, inquiry, confession, disintegration of the known world.
The guy was some Wall Street coworker asshole; Ricky herself called him that. John never laid eyes on him and was glad. Ricky didn’t care for him, she said. It had been a “thing,” that’s all, the word she used to dismiss it, and John saw it in his mind as just that: a shiny, dangling, tangible thing, a piece of tinsel, maybe, and she a witless magpie who couldn’t help herself.
– The Grief of Others, page 145
I actually “jotted” these quotes and notes down on my phone, something I usually don’t do, but faced with balancing an umbrella, a backpack, and a hardcover book, I opted for the phone in my pocket rather than the notebook in my backpack, under my lunchbox. What’s your preferred method of notetaking?