Jodi Taylor · 332 pages
Rating: (15.5K votes)
“Thinking carefully is something that happens to other people”
“It is better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.”
“If this was one of those books, there would now be three pages of head-banging sex. The reality was that he pulled me close, whispered, ‘Mfhbnnntx,’ and I pulled his arm over me like a cover and muttered, ‘Trout,’ and that was pretty much it.”
“Silence holds no fears for me. I never feel the urge to fill it as so many other people do.”
“The screaming redoubled. You put dinosaurs and people together, you always get screaming.”
“Exchange between Leon and Max:
"I just want you to tell me you love me sometimes."
"Yes, you see I can't do that." He turned his head away. "I love you all the time.”
“I certainly wasn’t where I should be and it would be the cautious, the sensible thing to do. But, for God’s sake, I was an historian and cautious and sensible were things that happened to other people. I”
“The Society for the Protection of Historical Buildings was the official body whose task it was to oversee repairs and maintenance to our beloved but battered listed building. We had them on speed-dial. They had us on their black list.”
“If in doubt, make some tea.”
“He had fallen for Cal like a sperm-whale failing to clear the Grand Canyon on a bicycle.”
“Yes, yes, I did. I did this. I locked my pod. He couldn’t get to safety.”
“Henry V and the Battle of Agincourt.”
“He was calm and soothing and had a reasonable explanation for everything. No woman should have to put up with that.”
“If this was one of those books, there would now be three pages of head-banging sex. The”
“I spoke very quietly because the more quietly you speak, the more people listen.”
“Time is important in our organisation. If you can’t even get to an appointment in your own building on time, they argue, you’re not going to have much luck trying to find the Battle of Hastings. Sussman”
“working on a recipe for pitch here and I need some sort of fibrous binding agent. I have to say,”
“Mr Markham, the box marked “Sex” is not an invitation. Please amend the details and apologise to Mrs Partridge.”
“You’re really not fit to be allowed out on your own, are you?’ ‘So, what’s the damage?’ ‘How do you want it? From head to toe? Alphabetically? Chronologically?’ ‘Surprise me.’ ‘Well, your feet are holding up well.’ ‘Glad to hear it. I’ll be on my way then.”
“Strangely, I found the conclusion quite liberating. When you’re fucked, you’re fucked. Things really can’t get much worse. With”
“I saw the exact moment the light left his eyes and he died and a small part of me went with him.”
“The pay is terrible and the conditions are worse, but it’s a wonderful place to work – they have some talented people there.”
“The summer we spent on the beach was all the sex education anyone needed.”
“Kate felt very offended. 'I am not an elf,' she insisted. 'I'm an Englishwoman!”
“answer when she knocked at length at the door of the workroom,”
“People can smile even when terrified.”
“She could envision Shakespeare's sister. But she imagined a violent, an apocalyptic end for Shakespeare's sister, whereas I know that isn't what happened. You see, it isn't necessary. I know that lots of Chinese women, given in marriage to men they abhorred and lives they despised, killed themselves by throwing themselves down the family well. I'm not saying it doesn't happen. I'm only saying that isn't what usually happens. It it were, we wouldn't be having a population problem. And there are so much easier ways to destroy a woman. You don't have to rape or kill her; you don't even have to beat her. You can just marry her. You don't even have to do that. You can just let her work in your office for thirty-five dollars a week. Shakespeare's sister did...follow her brother to London, but she never got there. She was raped the first night out, and bleeding and inwardly wounded, she stumbled for shelter into the next village she found. Realizing before too long that she was pregnant, she sought a way to keep herself and her child safe. She found some guy with the hots for her, realized he was credulous, and screwed him. When she announced her pregnancy to him, a couple months later, he dutifully married her. The child, born a bit early, makes him suspicious: they fight, he beats her, but in the end he submits. Because there is something in the situation that pleases him: he has all the comforts of home including something Mother didn't provide, and if he has to put up with a screaming kid he isn't sure is his, he feels now like one of the boys down at the village pub, none of whom is sure they are the children of the fathers or the fathers of their children. But Shakespeare's sister has learned the lesson all women learn: men are the ultimate enemy. At the same time she knows she cannot get along in the world without one. So she uses her genius, the genius she might have used to make plays and poems with, in speaking, not writing. She handles the man with language: she carps, cajoles, teases, seduces, calculates, and controls this creature to whom God saw fit to give power over her, this hulking idiot whom she despises because he is dense and fears because he can do her harm.
So much for the natural relation between the sexes.
But you see, he doesn't have to beat her much, he surely doesn't have to kill her: if he did, he'd lose his maidservant. The pounds and pence by themselves are a great weapon. They matter to men, of course, but they matter more to women, although their labor is generally unpaid. Because women, even unmarried ones, are required to do the same kind of labor regardless of their training or inclinations, and they can't get away from it without those glittering pounds and pence. Years spent scraping shit out of diapers with a kitchen knife, finding places where string beans are two cents less a pound, intelligence in figuring the most efficient, least time-consuming way to iron men's white shirts or to wash and wax the kitchen floor or take care of the house and kids and work at the same time and save money, hiding it from the boozer so the kid can go to college -- these not only take energy and courage and mind, but they may constitute the very essence of a life.
They may, you say wearily, but who's interested?...Truthfully, I hate these grimy details as much as you do....They are always there in the back ground, like Time's winged chariot. But grimy details are not in the background of the lives of most women; they are the entire surface.”
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