PERFECT PASSAGE OF PROSE…from a book I have read

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Courtesy Hodder Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs, page 273 Natalie and I are in the mangy TV room watching The Love Boat.  We’ve dragged the wing chairs up on either side of the Christmas tree and are reaching over to pick through its branches in pursuit of any candy canes that remain. Most of them have ...

PERFECT PASSAGE OF PROSE…from a book I have read

Courtesy Allen & Unwin The Happiest Refugee by Ahn Do, page 183 I told them that one of my uncles was kind of like a sapper, he’d done some clearing of landmines during the war.            ‘Anh!’ Paul piped up excitedly. ‘The first line of Jimmy Barnes’ song ‘Khe Sanh’ is ‘I left my heart to the sapper’s ...

PERFECT PASSAGE OF PROSE…from a book I have read

Courtesy of Penguin The Boat by Nam Le, page 279 But the mention of land – coming even from her own mouth – cancelled out any joke for Mai.  She had been trying not to think about it.  From every quarter everyone now discussed, obsessively, their situation: they were on a broken-down junk, stranded in the Eastern ...

PERFECT PASSAGE OF PROSE… from a book I have read

 Courtesty of Fourth Estate  The Thing Around Your Neck by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, page 142 On the day a plane crashed in Nigeria, the same day the Nigerian first lady died, somebody knocked loudly on Ukamaka’s door in Princeton. The knock surprised her because nobody ever came to her door unannounced – this after all ...

PERFECT PASSAGE OF PROSE… from a book I have read

Courtesy of Allen & Unwin Lovesong by Alex Miller, page 59 The change had slipped over the happy simplicity of their lives like the change of a season, the moment when you turn and quietly close a door and retreat a little into yourself. She had watched Sabiha falling in love and not knowing she was falling ...

PERFECT PASSAGE OF PROSE… from a book I have read

Courtesy of Fremantle Press Boy on a Wire by Jon Doust, page 107 The door opens and Dorothy Price walks in. I haven’t seen her since primary school when she was one of the flat chests, one of the unchosen, ignored by Harris, the sleazy teacher of Grade Seven.  Fat Arty looks up.  I look up. Dorothy ...