Like vocabulary crack for a linguistic junkie, I defy you to read this book and not learn a new word or several, not to mention the delicious challenge of trying to best Nollop’s own pangram along with the cast of characters.
He had gone away years before. Away, as in not there, not where Miranda was, not around when she needed him—or someone, anyone—to be in her corner.
Squeaks and screeches and haunting calls of “who-hoo-oooo” spoke amongst themselves in the language of the night, exclusive food chain negotiations I had no desire to be party to.
He gets so sick of those people with their happy lives and their normal jobs on solid ground. He gets so angry when he’s seen by no one, moving state to state leaving no trace, Mr. Inconsequential mattering to nobody nowhere.
She feels it beating at its cage like desperate fists pounding inside a coffin that’s been closed too soon, buried too soon.
You enjoy your shortbread any way you like, ’cause life’s too short to make rules about cookies.
He’s clever. He’s handsome. He makes you feel at ease. That’s your Brandon, he’s a catch!
Those of you who were near and dear to Eleanor are well aware that she aged far beyond her years, and although young-ish on paper, in practice she was senior to us all.
Sylvain was always early
Renee was always late
She did nothing but hurry
He did nothing but wait
Everything changed the day I called that number.