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A review by mlautchi
The Snow Queen by Michael Cunningham
5.0
“There’s that difference, between yesterday and today.” (21)
“They pass through a moment of silence as old as either of them can remember, the quietude of growing up together, of sleeping in the same room; the shared quiet that has always been their true element, interrupted of course by talks and fights and farts and laughter over the farts but essential, the atmosphere to which they’ve always returned, a field of soundless oxygen made up of their combined molecules.” (33)
“Something like anger, but the anger of a philosopher, the anger of a poet, an anger directed at the transience of the world, at its heartbreaking beauty that collides eventually with our awareness of the fact that everything gets taken away; that we’re being shown marvels but reminded, always, that they don’t belong to us, they’re sultan’s treasures, we’re lucky (we’re expected to feel lucky) to have been invited to see them at all.” (50)
“Here’s the room in which he currently resides: Shinto-inspired, just a mattress and a low table, the walls and floor painted white.” (54)
“Who doesn’t want – who doesn’t need – a moon at which to marvel, a fable city of glass and gold on the far side of the ocean? Who would insist that his corporeal lover – the guy in his bed, the man who forgets to throw his used Kleenexes away, who used the last of the coffee before he left for work – be the moon or the city?” (56)
“Is it more tragic, or is it less, to slip so quietly and briefly into and out of the world? To have added, and altered, so little.” (59)
“Hers until he isn’t anymore.” (62)
“‘I sometimes wonder how you live with such a modest sense of romance,’ Barrett says.” (67)
“They kiss, ravenously. As they kiss, he breathes into her and, at the same time, inhales her.” (141)
“People are more than you think they are. And they’re less, as well. The trick lies in negotiating your way between the two.” (142)
“It’s remarkable, being alive.” (157)
“Love, it seems, arrives not only unannounced, but so accidentally, so randomly, as to make you wonder why you, why anyone, believes even fleetingly in laws of cause and effect.” (220)
“A living silence passes between them; a brief interlude of quiet during which the very molecules of the air feel as if they’re more agitated than usual, more alive with some sort of invisible spark, some barely audible buzz.” (249)
“They pass through a moment of silence as old as either of them can remember, the quietude of growing up together, of sleeping in the same room; the shared quiet that has always been their true element, interrupted of course by talks and fights and farts and laughter over the farts but essential, the atmosphere to which they’ve always returned, a field of soundless oxygen made up of their combined molecules.” (33)
“Something like anger, but the anger of a philosopher, the anger of a poet, an anger directed at the transience of the world, at its heartbreaking beauty that collides eventually with our awareness of the fact that everything gets taken away; that we’re being shown marvels but reminded, always, that they don’t belong to us, they’re sultan’s treasures, we’re lucky (we’re expected to feel lucky) to have been invited to see them at all.” (50)
“Here’s the room in which he currently resides: Shinto-inspired, just a mattress and a low table, the walls and floor painted white.” (54)
“Who doesn’t want – who doesn’t need – a moon at which to marvel, a fable city of glass and gold on the far side of the ocean? Who would insist that his corporeal lover – the guy in his bed, the man who forgets to throw his used Kleenexes away, who used the last of the coffee before he left for work – be the moon or the city?” (56)
“Is it more tragic, or is it less, to slip so quietly and briefly into and out of the world? To have added, and altered, so little.” (59)
“Hers until he isn’t anymore.” (62)
“‘I sometimes wonder how you live with such a modest sense of romance,’ Barrett says.” (67)
“They kiss, ravenously. As they kiss, he breathes into her and, at the same time, inhales her.” (141)
“People are more than you think they are. And they’re less, as well. The trick lies in negotiating your way between the two.” (142)
“It’s remarkable, being alive.” (157)
“Love, it seems, arrives not only unannounced, but so accidentally, so randomly, as to make you wonder why you, why anyone, believes even fleetingly in laws of cause and effect.” (220)
“A living silence passes between them; a brief interlude of quiet during which the very molecules of the air feel as if they’re more agitated than usual, more alive with some sort of invisible spark, some barely audible buzz.” (249)