The Book of Ruth
What it begins with, I know finally, is the kernel of meanness in people's hearts. I don't know exactly how or why it gets inside us, that's one of mysteries I haven't solved yet. I always tried to close my eyes and believe tat angels, invisible in their gossamer dresses, were keeping their loving vigil. I learned, slowly, that if you don't look at the world with perfect vision, you're bound to get yourself cooked. Even though I may still be looking through the dark glass, even though I haven't finished learning the lessons, I'm the only one who tells the story from beginning to end. It can't be Ruby, because he has been spirited away and born again. Neither love nor prayer can bring him back. May can talk herself blue in the face and no one will hear. By rights this belongs to Justy, because he inherits the earth for a short time, but he doesn't quite count yet. He'll remember the taste of pecan balls, exactly how the powdery mash got stuck on the roof of his mouth, the color black maybe, and the color and shape of Ruby's teeth. They were rotten with sweets.
I haven't started this book, but it has been on my radar for a long time. During a recent visit to my sister's I noticed it on her bookshelf in her guest room. I asked if I could borrow it and of course she said I could. I don't know a lot about it other than it is a first novel, it was a selection of Oprah's Book Club and to quote the Boston Sunday Globe, "A sly and wistful, if harrowing, human comedy. Hamilton is a new and original voice in fiction and one well worth listening to."
Until next time,
Stay Busy and Stay Happy