Do you ever walk through a book store and every time you do there is a book that screams at you? "Read me! You're going to like me! Pick me up and read me!" I get that all the time, and imagine working in a book store, there are little voices everywhere.
(OK, that made me sound all Cybil-esque, which was not at all my intent.)
But I'm reading a book right now called Amaryllis in Blueberry by Christina Meldrum. First doesn't the cover just scream beauty? And yes, I totally judge a book by it's cover. And secondly I finally picked this up from our advanced reader shelf (when you work in a bookstore, you're given uncorrected proofs of books before they are published to read so that when they do come out, you can sell said book.) And i have been reading this book for about the last week, it's much more deeper than I thought. Big life-changing topics talked about so simply that you sorta have to go back and read it again, "Did that just happen?"
Here is an excerpt that I just fell in love with because it took something so common and universal and spun it on it's side.
"Love is not what I thought. Love is impatient. It's not always kind. It does envy, it does boast. At times it is proud and rude and self-seeking. And easily angered. It does, now and then, keep a record of wrongs. And it doesn't always avoid evil or rejoice in truth. It can't always protect. It doesn't always trust or persevere: sometimes love fails.
Until Africa, I'd believed love had one taste. The taste could be stronger or fainter, hotter or colder, but its essence remained the same. And while I knew hate and love sometimes mixed, that love could be peppered with hate yet still be love - I hadn't realized that hate is integral to love, that it's within the reach of love's expanse. I hadn't realized that what makes love Love is not its consistency, but its malleability, its magnanimity. Its abundance: love holds it all. Love is ugly and full of hate even as it's tender and kind. There's nothing pure about love. It's the impurity that is love. I know that now.
Love can hope to be patient. It can hope to be kind. It can hope to not envy or boast or be proud. It can hope to persevere. But love is not perfect. I tell myself this now. Every day."
Did that make you want to read the book? It comes out next month if you do.
This is my morning, coffee in my Matt's Bar mug and a good read.