Wednesday, October 21, 2009
What I'm Reading
"Your man Barama, my friend, would not even be in the running if he wasn't black."
Now all appetite left him entirely. The food on his plate, whatever it was, splotches of taupe, dollops of orange, went abstract like a painting. His blood pressure flew up; he could feel the pulsing twitch in his temple. "You know, I never thought about it before but you're right! Being black really is the fastest, easiest way to get to the White House!"
She said nothing, and so he added , "Unless you're going by cab, and then, well, it can slow you down a little."
The shaker appeared before him. He shook some salt around on his plate and stared at it.
"If you don't think I as a woman know a thing or two about prejudice, you would be sadly mistaken," Linda said.
"Hey, it's not that easy being a man either," said Bake. "There's all that cash you have to spend on porn? and believe me, that's money you never get back."
He then retreated, turned toward his left, toward Suzy, and leaned in. "Help me," he whispered in her ear.
"Are you charming the patrons?"
"I fear some object may be thrown."
"You're supposed to charm the patrons."
(from "Paper Losses")
In the chrome of the refrigerator she caught the reflection of her own face, part brunette Shelley Winters, part potato, the finely etched sharps and accidentals beneath her eyes a musical interlude amid the bloat. In every movie she had seen with Shelley Winters in it, Shelley Winters was the one who died.
And that's just the first two stories in the collection! How had I not discovered this woman before?