“He stubbed out the cigarette. A wisp of smoke curled up briefly and died. Priya got up and put on a shirt and a pair of palazzos. Then she sat on the rumpled bed again, her chin resting on her knees, her eyes vacant, her hands clasped like manacles around her slim ankles.” Erotica as …
Eleanor Oliphant’s (this is not her real name though) story is worth every penny and page. A tale of acute loneliness, it made me weep inconsolably. This is writing at its ingenuous best. I must confess on days, I had to discard the book — it was akin to staring too hard in the mirror.
“I felt like killing my father, but I didn’t want him to die.” This is a novel you will remember. Deliciously dark, wickedly funny at the most unusual junctures, shocking at times, gloomy at length and startlingly smart, Moshfeigh takes us on a journey of a woman you won’t meet quite often. And even if …
I can’t remember the last time I wanted a book not to end. Simply because the journey was so amazing. Even though I am happy that now I can return to writing, I am heartbroken about having to say goodbye to Eleanor and Park.
The only respect in which my wife was at all unusual was that she didn’t like wearing a bra.” Says Mr Cheong, husband of Yeong-hye who has all of a sudden decided on giving up on meat. She has turned vegetarian. Why? Well, by using the recurring dream technique, where Yeong-hye’s inner thoughts and desires …
