Jasper Jones, Chapter 1.
Years and years ago (read: sophomore year of college) when I was feeling really literature-y, I used this here LJ to document favorite quotes from things I was reading. I'm thinking of starting that again here. Because 1) I'm not writing my goals in here anymore, so it's pretty lonely; 2) Documenting these quotes is way too boring to force any of my Facebook friends to read; 3) They are all longer than 140 characters and hence too long for Twitter. Curse you, Twitter! You make life so hard for people who like to ramble!
I'm currently reading Jasper Jones by Craig Silvey, an Australian YA novel, and there were so many parts just in Chapter 1 that I liked so much that here they are.
--
"It's a big thing for me to trust you, Charlie. It's dangerous. And I'm asking you to do the same. I can't force you to do nuthin. But I hoped you might see things from my end. That's what you do, right? When you're readin. You're seeing what it's like for other people."
--
This night has pick-pocketed me of precious things I can't ever get back. I feel robbed, but I don't feel cheated by Jasper Jones. It's a curious emptiness. Like when you move to a new house and there's no furniture or familiar walls, the same sort of weird alloy of abandonment and upheaval. It's a lonely sensation.
--
I squint down my nose at the cigarette in my hand, as though it has just said something to confuse me. I needlessly tap ash from its hood, singe the tip of my index finger, and drop the cigarette. Of course, my instinct is to reach and catch it, which, to my surprise, I manage to succeed in doing, and so I burn the inside of my left palm. I hate this cigarette. And now I have to smoke it.
--
I take a small incendiary pull. Of course, it attacks my mouth and burns down the length of my throat. This shit is poison. And I realize I've been betrayed by the two voices that fiction promised me I'd adore. Sal Paradise held up bottles of booze like a housewife in a detergent commercial. Holden Caulfield reached for his cigarettes like an act of faith. Even Huckleberry Finn tapped on his pipe with relief and satisfaction. I can't trust anything. If sex turns out to be this bad, I'm never reading again.
I'm currently reading Jasper Jones by Craig Silvey, an Australian YA novel, and there were so many parts just in Chapter 1 that I liked so much that here they are.
--
"It's a big thing for me to trust you, Charlie. It's dangerous. And I'm asking you to do the same. I can't force you to do nuthin. But I hoped you might see things from my end. That's what you do, right? When you're readin. You're seeing what it's like for other people."
--
This night has pick-pocketed me of precious things I can't ever get back. I feel robbed, but I don't feel cheated by Jasper Jones. It's a curious emptiness. Like when you move to a new house and there's no furniture or familiar walls, the same sort of weird alloy of abandonment and upheaval. It's a lonely sensation.
--
I squint down my nose at the cigarette in my hand, as though it has just said something to confuse me. I needlessly tap ash from its hood, singe the tip of my index finger, and drop the cigarette. Of course, my instinct is to reach and catch it, which, to my surprise, I manage to succeed in doing, and so I burn the inside of my left palm. I hate this cigarette. And now I have to smoke it.
--
I take a small incendiary pull. Of course, it attacks my mouth and burns down the length of my throat. This shit is poison. And I realize I've been betrayed by the two voices that fiction promised me I'd adore. Sal Paradise held up bottles of booze like a housewife in a detergent commercial. Holden Caulfield reached for his cigarettes like an act of faith. Even Huckleberry Finn tapped on his pipe with relief and satisfaction. I can't trust anything. If sex turns out to be this bad, I'm never reading again.