And not just the quiet of a noonday sun. No. The 3 sm silence of a house in the chi-chi part of the suburbs, where there is an actual contrast between quiet and silence.
You have to understand that I don't read books. I consume them. I am self employed, so 365 pages of popular fiction is a light snack that is often spread luxuriously over an entire day, which, if pressed, I could finish in a few hours. Even 200 pages of most literary fiction is a syllable-restricted diet when spaced sparingly across a two-day period.
But reading Toni is different. I study her works as both reader and writer- they are so much more than books to be read. I marvel at the way she is able to unfold a story by thrusting you in the midst of life in progress. I am amazed at the tapestry of emotions, and find myself frequently asking myself the back story behind the characters sometimes unpredictable behavior. It makes you want to know more about the past accounts of their interactions.
Then I invariably find myself in awe of the settings, themes, plots and characters are seamlessly integrated into the revelation of a story that reads more like a compelling history than a work of fiction.
Because you know these people. Either you feel their pain or you understand it. And the buffet of information that convinces you of this is unraveled from its tightly packed form through many of the same interactions that would familiarize you with a similar situation in real life.
Imagine. You are suddenly living in a town with people you don't really know, yet you're not really a stranger. Maybe you grew up in a town similar to this one, and so you can tell from societal context clues which two women have a lifelong feud. over a man, and are ironically forced through their connection to him to remain in each other's lives, despite their deep, abiding hatred of one another. There's the town harlot. Here's the notoriously unfaithful husband. And here's the rich man's wife, who might as well be called a slave for the price that was paid for her to be wed.
Or perhaps you're a distant relative who's heard pieces of stories that you match with faces through conversation. Your father says at dinner, "I used to wonder why he picked a woman like that May to marry." And you think to yourself, 'Oh, so THAT's how they're related,", pleased at yourself for sticking another piece of the puzzle into place.
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