September 29, 2006

My Sister's Keeper

by Jodi Picoult

In my first memory, I am three years old and I am trying to kill my sister. Sometimes the recollecton is so clear I can remember the itch of the pillowcase under my hand, the sharp point of her nose pressing into my palm. She didn't stand a chance against me, of course, but it still didn't work. My father walked by, tucking in the house for the night, and saved her. He led me back to my own bed. "That," he told me, "never happened."

As we got older, I didn't seem to exist, except in relation to her. I would watch her sleep across the room from me, one long shadow linking our beds, and I would count the ways. Poison, sprinkled on her cereal. A wicked undertow off the beach. Lightning striking.

In the end, though, I did not kill my sister. She did it all on her own.

Or at least this is what I tell myself.

That is the first page of the book. If you want to read the rest, you'll have to go to the bookstore, or the library, or borrow it from a friend who has it and is willing to part with it for a few days. This book wrecked me. I think you guys should read it too, so we can all fellowship in the wreckage. It's just that good.



1 Comments:

At 9:17 AM, Blogger John H said...

so..you've gone from borrowing your sister's format to posting passage about killing sisters. Note to Malia..be afraid, be very afraid.

Seriously, this certainly is an attention grabber. Thanks for sharing.

I do like your new format. Nothing wrong with pink - it's worked for Pepto-Bismol lo these many years...(o:

 

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