A review by reading_rainy
Tell the Wolves I'm Home, by Carol Rifka Brunt
5.0
"I sat on a bench and my mother stood in front of me, looking down the track. Her hair was cut short, and because it had all turned gray when she was twenty-three, she always had it dyed a deep chestnut brown. It was that color all over except for a super thin stripe at the top of her head, where the gray showed through. Sometimes I wanted to touch that place on my mother's head, that thin crack where her real self had forced its way through."
I don't have the words. I just don't. This book floored me.
“Don’t you know? That’s the secret. If you always make sure you’re exactly the person you hoped to be, if you always make sure you known only the very best people, then you won’t care if you die tomorrow.”
“That doesn’t make any sense, If you were so happy , then you’d want to stay alive, wouldn’t you? You’d want to be alive forever, so you could keep being happy.”
“No, no. It’s the most unhappy people who want to stay alive, because they think they haven’t done everything they want to do. They think they haven’t had enough time. They feel like they’ve been short changed.”
Sigh.
I don't have the words. I just don't. This book floored me.
“Don’t you know? That’s the secret. If you always make sure you’re exactly the person you hoped to be, if you always make sure you known only the very best people, then you won’t care if you die tomorrow.”
“That doesn’t make any sense, If you were so happy , then you’d want to stay alive, wouldn’t you? You’d want to be alive forever, so you could keep being happy.”
“No, no. It’s the most unhappy people who want to stay alive, because they think they haven’t done everything they want to do. They think they haven’t had enough time. They feel like they’ve been short changed.”
Sigh.