At one point in the novel there's a magical burst which affects all the women on the island and their affliction is so shocking I couldn't believe what I was reading! I love that Ross has the courage to not only depict such a mischievous event but carry its logic through so we see how it results in chaotic transformation. Wild enough for you? This is only the beginning of a fantastical journey infused with the awe-inspiring pleasure of dreams and the intensity of nightmares. He's also haunted by his wife who died in the ocean and literally stalks the islands while her body gradually disintegrates. But Xavier also possesses the title of macaenus, a coveted and specially appointed position in which he prepares a once in a lifetime meal for every person exactly when they most need it. This is a super power I never knew I needed but think about how convenient it would be! No more rooting through cluttered spice racks. His special ability is being able to season food just with the palms of his hands. The day begins with Xavier being tasked with preparing a wedding feast for an influential man's daughter. This novel introduces readers to the archipelago of Popisho, a fictional series of islands which form a nation of people possessed with magical qualities and real world concerns.
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Will Chris abandon Theo when he learns the truth, or will he stand by him in this tumultuous season of self-discovery? When a relationship with another young man goes south, Theo is forced to confront his own sexuality along with his growing attraction to Chris and the stunted, tenuous relationship Theo has with his father. Theo hates lying to Chris, but in coming out, he might lose the one person who understands him best, a risk he’s not willing to take. When they were kids, golden boy Chris Mitcham rescued dweeby Theo Wooten from the neighborhood bullies and taught him how to “be cool.” Now, years later, Theo’s developed romantic feelings for his best friend that “arise” at the most inopportune times. Sometimes the people we need most aren’t bonded by blood but by something deeper. All his gestures are exaggeratedly huffy, though there’s no one to witness his protest, no one but you and me, and the boy didn’t even see us. Now we watch as he drags it up through the laurel and back to the house. “We’re still standing outside the front gate of the shell cottage as a boy in football socks stomps down his driveway to retrieve a wheelie bin. Because this is how people measure life.” Whereas the jackdaw looks like a bin bag. Why didn’t anybody stop for the jackdaw? Because the swan looks like a wedding dress, that’s why. Its beak was cracked open, its brains squeeged out. I think of the jackdaw, did you see the jackdaw? We passed it in the queue to pass the swan. I think of the rat, the fox, the kitten, the badger. I think of all the other creatures we’ve seen since we set out. I think she is crying, she seems to be crying, and this makes me suddenly angry. The woman is kneeling down beside the swan. One man is standing on the tar, the other is directing the traffic. There are two men and a woman in the road. We see its wings are tucked back as if the tar is liquid and the swan is swimming. As we pass we see its long neck has buckled into its body like a folding chair. It looks like an offcut of organza, crumpled around the edges, twitching. “Now we see it, lying in the middle of the road. |