Welcome to the second installment in our Life After Yes book club! (Want to know what this book club thing is all about? Click here! Still on an earlier chapter or want to catch up on last week’s discussion? Click here!)
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As I did last week, I thought I would kick off our conversation on chapters 12-22 of Aidan Donnelley Rowley’s delightful debut by offering my reflections on the dominant theme in this section of the book. While I suggested that the first third of the book was all about identity, the theme that really struck me in the middle part of the book was what I’ll call, in micro-homage to Jane Austen, Prudence and Predictability.
Once again, Aidan establishes two sides of the dichotomy between prudence and imprudence, predictability and entropy, and safety and risk in her characterization of Quinn’s lovers. Although Phelps isn’t exactly a revolutionary, he makes a conscious effort to buck expectations, telling Quinn that “predictability is a plague” and warning her against becoming “One of them. Part of the crowd. The cliché. What’s expected of us.”
Later, Aidan further establishes Sage (can this name be a coincidence?) as the anti-Phelps. He’s grounded, responsible, predictable. He chides Quinn for behaving like a child: “I know you think it’s boring, but one of these days, we’re going to have to grow up, start paying these bills…and stop drinking like nineteen-year-olds. After a certain age, it’s not cute to be irresponsible.”
And how does Quinn respond? By using Phelps’s words against Sage:
“You’re right,” I say, and he is. Time to grow up. “But it all strikes me as boring. Responsibility can be boring.”
As I say these words, I think of Phelps. Of course I do. Because they are his words. Practically his mantra.
And even though she makes nice with Sage, assuring him that, once they’re married she will “all of a sudden drink like a twenty-one-year-old,” Quinn holds onto the idea that Prudence and Predictability aren’t really what she’s after: “And it hits me. Here I am. In the tub. Caught in a passing storm of predictability.”
This theme surfaces again in Quinn’s…um, Prudence’s…relationship with her parents. Out for drinks with her mom on the day that her mother will meet Sage’s mother, her mom calls Quinn out for being more predictable than she might think or want to be: “Your rebellions, Prue, they’re so predictable. You spend so much time trying to be different, but…” And it becomes clearer that, although Phelps and the lure of unpredictability is strong, Quinn might be more of a Prudence after all. She even imagined her own father’s death, how it might take place, and how she would behave. And perhaps the fact that his death occurred so suddenly and under such unimaginable circumstances – a slap in the face of Prudence and Predictability – influences Quinn’s less than prudent choices in this section of the novel.
Quinn’s relationship with Sage’s mom is another staging ground for this theme to play out. When Sage and Quinn visit the McIntyres to commemorate the death of Sage’s brother, Henry, two things are clear: 1. Quinn is not the daughter-in-law Mrs. McIntyre had in mind for her son; and 2. she is a woman who wants things done in her own predictable way. Quinn longs to ask her about Sage’s childhood and about Henry, but instead she follows Mrs. McIntyre’s predictable lead and “does something [she's] very good at. [She] play[s] it safe.” Later during the visit, Quinn flips through one of Henry’s old Choose Your Own Adventure books (random aside: I loved those as a kid!), Inside UFO 54-40, in which, according to Quinn’s mom’s explanation to her in her childhood, “You can only reach the perfect ending…by ignoring the rules, by flipping through the book at random.” Stumbling upon that book in Henry’s room allows Quinn to reflect once again on the prudence of prudence, a reflection which inspires her to “stop playing it safe”:
Could it be that happiness, true happiness, can only be reached by aimless wandering? That paradise will only welcome those who live their lives without it as a destination? That the path to happiness about which we are all consciously or unconsciously preoccupied is not a linear set of prudent choices, but a smattering of random decisions, a haphazard adventure?
The rising action of these chapters starts with a toast Quinn gives at a work party. Surrounded by Sage, Kayla, Cameron, and Fisher, she raises her glass to “[P]utting love first, the law second, and prudence dead last,” advice which Quinn follows to an extent in Chapter 21 when she encounters Phelps on a work trip to Texas with Fisher (the outcome of which I won’t reveal here in case any among us haven’t made it to end of the section yet, but please feel free to discuss it in the comments). Suffice it to say that the events of Chapter 21 as they pertain to Prudence and Predictability lead to heart attacks of the literal and metaphorical variety in Chapter 22.
Do you think Quinn is more prudent or more imprudent? What do you make of her choices in these chapters?
Is your own life more governed by prudence and predictability or risk-taking?
What other themes or moments grabbed you while reading this section of the novel?
{ 38 comments… read them below or add one }
The conversation between Quinn and her mom really worked on my heart. I could relate deeply because I’m a slow to grow up kind of girl. Like Quinn I kick and scream while being dragged through adulthood and it IS a cliche, really. I’m just now starting to settle in to my skin at age 35 and feeling okay with being here, right where I am meant to be in this moment.
All that to say…I totally got what Quinn was doing in this section of the book. Her night with Phelps made perfect sense to me, even though it came out of nowhere in a sense. But I think both of them had it boiling under the surface for so long, Phelps finally showed up to make it happen.
Great post, lady. Your book club series was a great idea for you because you really dig deeply and articulate your thoughts so well. Thank you.
Thank you for those sweet words, Heather. They mean so much to me.
And thanks too for your thoughts on this section of the book. I wonder the extent to which Quinn’s “encounter” (nice euphemism, eh?) with Phelps was inevitable. Well, I know nothing’s really inevitable, but I wonder if they both had to get that night out of their systems in order to move on to the future – whether that be together or with their other partners. Almost like it was an extension of their childish relationship that they had to try on as adults to see how it would feel in the present.
Quinn is in the thick of the classic conflict women face in our 20′s: to play it safe or expand into new territory. Those of us afflicted by “The Curse of the Good Girl” (thanks for this phrase to Rachel Simmons and her terrific book) want to be seen as good girls at the same time that we want to see what possibilities are open to us.
Quinn is particularly tormented by this question because she is both talented and privileged, and thus has so many possibilities open to her. Both the conventional path and the unconventional path are deeply tempting to her, yet she is starting to see that both paths have enormous perils.
Quinn can’t travel both paths at the same time, any more than she can marry all three of those grooms. Marriage by definition means choosing ONE of the options available to us, and is perhaps the most conventional thing we can do — even when we commit to making our marriages unconventionally passionate and vibrant.
Now that I’m this many years older than Quinn, things feel very different. All that roiling conflict over whether I would be typical or unique seems distant, as I’ve gradually *become* the establishment. (Mother. Principal. Homeowner. Wife. I can barely write these words without some younger part of myself saying, Ugh.)
But she/we can’t have total stability without giving up a certain amount of freedom. My choice was (and was always) stability, and that got me where I am now… and closed off whatever else might have been.
Hi Launa – Thanks for joining us. I hope your transition back to life stateside is going as well as possible!
I think you make a critical point here about Quinn: her wealth, her job, and her intelligence allow her a life in which the idea of having her cake – or her three grooms – and eating it too seems almost possible. And who wouldn’t be paralyzed, or at least awfully confused, in the face of such abundance?
It’s also interesting to me to hear you describe yourself as “establishment” – this from a woman who just picked up her family and her life and spent a year living abroad. To me that sounds adventurous, cool, and even a little risky (risky in a good way, that is). And you’ve made me think if there are ways in which my own life, which feels about as safe as it gets, might actually look less prudent from the outside looking in.
Thanks, Launa!
I agree with Heather, I lapped up the conversation between Quinn and her mom and took away so many “quotables,” and even a few ideas for blog posts of my own.
I’m sad to admit that I didn’t quite make it to the end of this week’s reading (as I was inhaling my IRL book club book for a Saturday night discussion), but none the less, I enjoyed the journey as it continued.
Unlike Quinn I thought I knew myself when I was her age. I was more aware of where I was going and what I wanted. Then I had kids, and several things have happened along the way to shake my foundation of self-identity and so I’m looking once again. So now, into my 30′s, I find myself struggling with the meaning of happiness and how best to “get there.”
I was so struck by this quote: “I want you to have moments where this world, this gray world, is rainbow again.” This characterizes life for me at this moment so well. I have been living in such grey, and only in the last month or two have I found a rainbow, so glorious and wonderful. I guess it makes this book that much more enjoyable for me!
I love that quote! (Page 167 at the very bottom for anyone who’s looking.) What an eloquent way of stating an intention that really could shape my every day. Finding the rainbow in the gray. Perfect!
Thanks, Christine!
I think what I liked about this section of the book the most was Quinn’s ambivalence about prudence. She seems to hate it, yet even as she makes rash decisions she seems to want to be someone for whom prudence comes naturally. She flits back and forth between these two version of herself and has such trouble settling down.
I’m the opposite. I’m very prudent and predicatable, but I want to be someone who’s more of a risk taker. I don’t relate to Quinn’s exact sentiments. But I relate to the idea of seeing a different version of myself on the horizon somehwere.
It might not surprise you, Gale, to learn that I’m exactly the same as you: A P&P kind of girl who fancies the idea of becoming more of a risk taker.
I, too, loved the quotation where Quinn’s mother hopes she has “giddy moments. Moments when you smile because you have no choice.” I was really struck by Quinn’s search for happiness. This quest she is on — kind of like those “choose your own adventure” books she loved as a child — finds her caught between her past, her present, and her future. I think of her flipping through the UFO book as she looks for utopia, as she flips backwards and forwards trying to find the answer. And I wonder if the answer is ever simple. Quinn seems to want the answer to be easy, but is it ever? Is utopia even possible? Even Quinn asks, “Or is it that ultimate happiness doesn’t exist?” It seems so symbolic of her inner turmoil about love and marriage. She’s even talking about happiness and clams with Victor!
I also liked the Plato excerpt about love and marriage and found it interesting given the choices Plato makes. I wonder how this section fits in with Quinn’s struggle.
Kristen, I already finished the book! I couldn’t put it down!
I’m so glad you enjoyed the book, Amelia! And it’s always great to see you here!
“Quinn seems to want the answer to be easy, but is it ever?” Such an important question. And I think you’ve hit on a crucial problem for Quinn: she’s used to her life being pretty easy. She’s smart, she’s pretty, she’s successful, she’s healthy, she’s well-off financially. And so she’s used to life flowing in a predictably positive way. So the fact that she’s conflicted about Sage’s proposal – and, on a more dramatic level, her father’s unexpected death – are ways that Aidan challenges the predictable flow of her life and make her face a very human life.
While I think Quinn likes to think of herself as imprudent and unpredictable, her triple thinking everything in her life (written so realistically and beautifully) indicates otherwise.
I’m with her mother; her obsession with being unpredictable, like with many that age, makes her wind up being just that. But that’s her life’s lesson, isn’t it? That the very thing we may fear isn’t really the nemesis we thought it would be. And tho growing up and paying the bills, while on the surface, may look Boring, it is really as unpredictable and individual as everything else in life. When we get that, as Quinn seems to by the end, maybe we’re finally on the road to growing up.
Great thoughts Kristen; this is fun!
Ooh, wise words, Maureen: “And tho growing up and paying the bills, while on the surface, may look Boring, it is really as unpredictable and individual as everything else in life. When we get that, as Quinn seems to by the end, maybe we’re finally on the road to growing up.”
Kristen, you are SO good at this! And this: “in micro-homage to Jane Austen, Prudence and Predictability” – very clever and I completely agree. These are two things that I think many of us want to and do rebel against, in very predictable ways as Quinn’s mother says.
Like Christine, I was riveted by the mother-daughter conversations. Some wise words I take away:
“Sometimes, the best decisions don’t require reasons.” This will echo in my mind the next time I question a decision, seemingly lacking reason, that feels right to me.
“Doubt can be a beautiful thing. Embrace it. Let it teach you.” I feel like I know this deep down but being so brainwashed into thinking that doubt is poison, it feels good to see its merits validated in print.
In this section, I found myself sympathizing with Sage’s mother. While I never ever want to know what it’s like to lose a child, I can understand how threatened she must feel by Quinn who, in Mrs. McIntyre’s mind, is taking away her only son. The day of their Savannah visit is an emotional day and I found myself excusing her less than stellar Southern hospitality toward Quinn.
As for Quinn’s interlude with Phelps, as prudent and predictable as I can be, I somehow understood it. They have a special bond; a bond established long before she met Sage. To me, it represented a sort of last-ditch effort to hold on to something familiar and safe, a kind of reassurance that they are still who they are despite how much they’ve changed and grown up.
Thanks for your kind words, Belinda, and for all of these great thoughts.
I’m with you on Sage’s mother. I think Aidan does a very good job of drawing her as totally believable. Yes, she is possessive of her son, but who wouldn’t be in that situation? And her dream of Sage marrying his high school sweetheart and taking over his dad’s business sounds like a good and reasonable one for a mother who’s lost her other son. The trip to Savannah also sets up nicely some developments in Quinn’s relationship with Mrs. McIntyre later in the novel.
I’m also really intrigued by what you have to say about Quinn’s night with Phelps. I hadn’t really thought of it as a return to something safe and predictable, but, in a way, it was. And how interesting that Quinn’s imprudent behavior happens with a man she genuinely loved rather than a random one night stand. A move toward something predictable, even if it wasn’t prudent.
Thanks, Belinda!
Did anyone else find Phelps to be one of the most interesting (and layered) characters in the book? I did, and your mention of their hotel night together and his fear of cliche and predictability reminded me of it. (This is my excuse for going off on a tangent, lol.)
I liked him because while he could see he was slipping into predictability even back when they were teens (looking at their parents and knowing they’d become like them), he fought the good fight. He truly didn’t want to be in that ‘heart shaped tub’. And yet…he ended up settling (if in an unboring way…I don’t want to give spoilers for the end yet). But he ended up growing up, which was for them, something sad and a bit like admitting defeat. (I, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to become grown up and responsible…only now do I see the folly in that!) I’d like to know what becomes of Phelps in ten years. 20 years. 30 years.
I also found Phelps really interesting – and really appealing. Maybe he will be the subject of the sequel! (Are you listening, Miss Aidan?) And, again, Aidan draws his character so believably. Who among us doesn’t know a rebel like Phelps? Lashing out at everything that’s provided him with the existence he has. What’s provocative about him is that he is genuinely smart – like Quinn – and so his posturing doesn’t necessarily seem directionless. Couldn’t he be the kind of guy who ends up throwing off the trappings of the good life and opening a medical clinic or working for Doctors without Borders? There is a real tension there, I think, between talking the talk and potentially walking the walk.
Firstly, I really resonate with Luana’s words in her comment (and hope my truest intention of admiration for, and encouragement of, Aiden’s process rings through my own musings).
I agree with the theme emerging of prudence and predictability, but I see predictability as the milieu of law, banking, money and control while I see Quinn as realizing she doesn’t want it, but not yet knowing what she does want, much less what is wanted of her from the universe (and her increasing doubt that honesty can be found in others and even within herself).
As I learned through my twenties, rebelling is not, in and of itself, forming an identity; it’s simply an anti-identity, one that wouldn’t be possible with out the conformists against which not to conform. There is no downtown without uptown, no rich without poor, no lost without found.
Quinn is a bit of a puella, a female Peter Pan who stands for not growing up, and as boring as life in a law firm can be, the fact that it is tedious and unglamorous work is precisely what makes it the ideal cure for the puer/puella (of course writing, if you make a novel of it, can also, with its endless visions and revisions before the taking of toast and tea, be amply curative).
Phelps, and then Quinn, fear the “heart shaped tub,” and yet this made me think of the alchemical image of the bath, the two lovers made one in a watery vessel shaped at first more like an octagon, and then more like a sarcophagus than a heart… but through which comes a psychological death (of the masculine as separate from the feminine/moon in union with sun), and then the return of the eternal child (puella taken to a higher chakra). This is an archetypal story of transformation, and in being so, I found so many ways to connect with it.
I find myself intrigued here with both what Aidan intends to say, but also with what wants to be said through Aidan and her writing process in which a book becomes a mirror self-object (it tells us what we were supposed to hear) to its author as well as to those who stumble across its pages.
One of my favorite moments in this section tracks with yours, Kristen, of the UFO Book (never read as I kid, but somehow lived it all the same). This resonates to my own life and my search for path when the confused dark and pathless forest proved to be my truest path, or at least I see that it was now that I look back at it. I like how Quinn’s mom possesses a “wisdom that reasons often manifest after the fact, that the architecture of decisions is often only perceptible in retrospect.” [BTW, I think she’s the character I’d be most interested to sit down and chat with, from her occasional cynicism to her love for her kids, her feminism and her resonance to nature and city… I just really like her]
I see Quinn as predictably imprudent—a bitter pill for us to swallow when we are young as we try so hard to be unique and original and all the while seek comfort and safety… much as I have been in my past, she is a rebel with an allowance (or a trust, or a net); just as 9/11 serves as the staggering Shadow reality at the ground zero of materialism and scripted love, I read Quinn’s story with recognition and affection, still trying to find my own authentic voice while at the same time trying to bridge from that sense of “other” I have so often struggled with (that she feels amongst law partners, nude women in the showers, friends she cannot always trust), an otherness that blocks our recognition of each other and our more universal belonging and identity.
While I have not read ahead (and find myself wondering how seriously her drinking will be remedied, or not, in the final third), as a reader of Aidan’s blog, I do suspect that becoming a parent has proven the real life-changer that allowed her to find a fuller and more generous voice as an author than her alter-ego’s level of development in Life After Yes.
Hi, Bruce, and thanks, as always, for your thoughtful words.
If Life After Yes is indeed a book about transformation, I suspect that we are in the thick of things in this middle section and that the tension between prudence and reckless spontaneity – or, as you so correctly put it, between identity and anti-identity – is at its most dramatic. With Quinn at her most “predictably imprudent,” she is at once most easily relatable and most frustrating to any of us who have shared her journey. (And is it a hero(ine)’s journey? I leave that to you and your far greater knowledge of philosophy to say.)
And, like you, I found Quinn’s mom to be a really attractive character. While she occasionally seems less self-aware that one might like from someone so ready to dispatch advice, she seems, ultimately, like a good parent: not always giving her daughter the answers she wants to hear, and yet there by her side as she muddles her way through. That’s a tension I already feel so early in my parenting career: balancing weighing in with standing back.
You know what, I really need to get this book, I think! :)
Do! It’s a great read! :)
I missed last week’s discussion. ) :
First of all, Aidan’s writing is exquisite.
Okay. Here are my thoughts on this section.
Frankly, I really dislike Quinn as a character. She is, however, a postmodern version of a heroin: imperfect and easy to relate to. Quinn embodies everything that irritates me of the stereotypical twenties. Rather than embrace adulthood, she lives in flimsy place between the teenage years and adulthood, a stage that researchers refer to as “emerging adulthood.” Although she has graduated from undergrad and law school and has a job at a law firm, she still runs away from responsibility. She calls responsibility “boring.” I don’t quite understand her definition of boring. As my responsibilities have increased, I have felt more pressure, more stress, and more joy. My life is in constant fluctuation–albeit different from when I was kid free, but constantly changing nonetheless. Of course her feelings match her the immaturity of her character.
Her encounter with Phelps was not unexpected. Still, I was disappointed. First off, Phelps was married, with a wife who was about to pop. Did she have the decency to think about that poor wife? It wasn’t a simple little fling or one night stand, it was a relationship that betrayed not only Sage, but Phelp’s wife. His pregnant wife. A woman who is at her most vulnerable point–she feels huge and not very beautiful, and he cheats on her. Quinn, at this point, becomes a person that does not deserve her first name. Prudence.
I have so many more thoughts but must attend to my children. Ah! Hopefully I will come back later. : )
Hi, Amber – You make a critical point about Quinn’s night with Phelps. The fact that his wife is pregnant does make it a far more egregious offense. Interesting to think of it from the angle of a fatherless woman sleeping with a soon-to-be-father. Through her actions, isn’t she jeopardizing Phelps’s relationship with his unborn baby, maybe even stealing him away? Visiting her newly orphaned status on another child? (And I don’t mean to let Phelps off the hook: he is just as guilty as Quinn is.)
I also really resonate to what you say about adult life being anything but predictable. Man, what I wouldn’t give for some predictability!
Late to the discussion here, but just devouring all these wise comments. And Amber, I totally echo your remarks! I’m annoyed with Quinn and her resistance to adulthood. It seems she wants the benefits of being an adult without the responsibilities. I guess I feel this way because I’ve had a pretty good decade in my 20s. I didn’t suffer through this “emerging adulthood” as much as most people do.
And don’t even get me started about women who sleep with married men!! Come on ladies, you’re devaluing all of us! We need to support one another, not compete.
I think the character I relate most to is Sage. His wisdom, calm demeanor, loyalty. He is a good balance to Quinn’s personality.
And one last note: I love the use of names as descriptors. And isn’t it true, that you meet someone and think well yes, their name really does match their personality. I venture that who I am as Eva isn’t anything like who I would be as Erin or Erika or Emily.
Eva, I think you should write a post about how your name has affected you. Such a fascinating topic. My mom wanted to name me Jillian (which is so weird to think about; I don’t feel like a Jillian at all), but my dad nixed it because my older brother is John and he worried we’d be called “Jack and Jill.” They also, apparently, considered naming me Holly because I was born on Christmas Eve. Corny! :) I guess Kristen was enough of a nod to the holiday.
I finished the book this weekend and totally got Quinn’s ongoing identity crisis. How many of us flounder around for a while, full of anxiety and unknowns, only to find our footing again.
I can identify with Quinn’s ambivalence about struggling against what she is becoming, even though her heart desires it, her mind wants her to question, to really fight for what it is she wants.
As someone who lost her father, it is hard to make sense of life, and life without a parent there to guide you is very difficult. You find yourself yearning, perhaps glossing over the truth of what the relationship was because of grief. Death is a catalyst for changes, changes in the lives that are left behind.
I think Quinn’s greatest struggle comes from the fact that although she was raised by a feminist, she truly wants to be taken care of, and she fights the very thing that she so desires.
I loved the book, the contradictions and struggles of each of the characters, the story line, everything!
So many great points here, Maria. I’m so interested in what you have to say about the death of a loved one sometimes making us lionize our relationship with them. Certainly Quinn’s dad takes on an almost heroic quality in her life, while her mom remains flawed and real.
I also really appreciate your point about part of Quinn’s struggle coming from the dichotomy between the feminism she learned from her mother and her wish to be taken care of. I wonder how much of that is exacerbated by the death of her father, or if she was always a girl in woman’s pinstripes.
Thanks, Maria!
I think that Quinn’s choice to be imprudent (Is that a word? Figures I would wait to respond after my brain is mush for the night.) is her rebellion – as predictable as the rebellions are – against everything in her life. She didn’t like her name so she started have people call her something else. She was with guy one and left him for Sage. She is with Sage but has a run-in with Phelps.
I am not all that prudent which may be a reason that I do not identify with Quinn as much as I do Kayla.
Imprudent is indeed a word. (I looked it up!) :)
I like how you refer to Quinn’s imprudence as a “choice.” And it absolutely is. You can almost see the wheels turning. She thinks so much about everything; it’s almost as if she’s deciding how she can do something crazy.
I really do like Quinn’s character, partly because I want to take her under my wing and talk some sense into her. I want to be her mom (even though I’m hardly older than she is) to help guide her through these times. Although I suppose part of the journey to find your identity is doing it alone.
It’s refreshing to see her starting to “get it” as the book goes on. She’s come to peace with her dream and marriage and is even starting to look forward to it. She’s finding beauty and happiness in the small things, the moments, rather than expecting life to be full of fairy-tale happiness.
Yet she continues to make terrible, terrible mistakes that threaten to destroy her relationship with Sage (who is one of my fave characters in the book).
As I get further in the book, as Quinn slowly but surely matures, I see hope for her. Happiness for her, and I’m cheering her along every step of the way.
Hi, Allison – Thanks for mentioning Sage. I feel like he gets left out of some of our discussion because he’s so lovely and dependable. Clearly he has his own set of issues, but I think his presence as Quinn’s fiance makes her all the more redeemable. To me, she’s easier to like because someone like Sage likes her.
I couldn’t agree more. Sage truly does give her a more likable quality. Sometimes she can be pretty tough to like. Especially in these chapters.
“I want you to have moments where this world, this gray world, is rainbow again.” I, too, loved this quote and underlined it in my copy! I hope that I live a life of rainbows – it’s what I strive for, anyway.
I quite like Quinn’s Peter Pan complex, impulsivity and sense of adventure. I suppose because I feel I am very predictable and dull. (although still a bit of a Peter Pan – I suppose that’s a quality we share) She reminds me a bit of my former students – their struggles and triumphs and discovering who EXACTLY they are. I find myself rooting for her, hoping that with each turn of the page that she makes the sound decisions and choices *I* want her to make!
I like how you and Bruce both hit on the idea of Quinn’s having a Peter Pan complex. I hadn’t really thought about that before and it makes total sense. My problem is that I’m always the Wendy (or maybe the Nana – is that the big dog’s name?). I think I could probably benefit from a little more Peter Pan in my life.
ARGH! This is killing me! I am going to San Francisco this weekend and that book IS coming with me on the plane. I hate not being able to have anything to say (big-mouth syndrome).
Enjoy your trip – and the book! xo
I too loved the conversation between Quinn and her mother! Her mother is a really fascinating character. I like how blunt she is with Quinn and how they exchange disagreements over makeup — it is so typical of an adult mother-daughter relationship, I find. How even though both are adults, they can’t help but fall into old roles from earlier years.
My fave quote from their convo is this one: “I think you doubt the things you love most. You don’t have doubts about things that don’t matter.” (p.170)
Yes! I do that too, falling into my childhood role whenever I’m with my family, joking around with my older brother, bossing around my younger one (even though he’s 28!). :)
Yes, Julie! I dog-earred that quote too.
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