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… Ed Phelps was walking north up Seventh Avenue. He’d just come along 50th Street from seeing Rockefeller Center—just … up the cigarettes now on ten years. Isaline watched his diet like a hawk. Doctor said his cholesterol was low. And … two of them were drunk. “Deacon,” he said, with a rather studied deference: “Would you be so kind as to play for us?” Oh …

… we’ve slept together once—it was the week after my mother died, pity sex, so it doesn’t exactly count—we don’t know … told you that?” “Actually, no,” I say. “I’ve always gotten compliments on my kisses.” “Well,” she says. “Women very … I get up in the morning and narrate my way through the rituals of awakening. “Okay, we’re taking a shower now,” I …

… to be friends with a children’s librarian. Without the recommendation of someone who sees what gets published under … Knopf chose to market Zusak’s novel towards a younger audience, at least in the United States, but for a story set … which might be lost on younger readers. And then there is also the prose, without doubt representing a fluidity of …

… have to & in leaving, ensured that at least one of us would die. I have one photograph of him as a child & in it he & my … silence. I think if you look at something hard enough it becomes obsolete, or you do, that your name turns to smoke & … the two boys, behind the woods & all the high-school scandals beginning,   discreetly, within them, a plume of smoke …

… they’d sent him home. The nurse had warned him no more false calls and patted his back to reassure him that death … Your mother’s worried. He waves at me from the car to come on. Listen, I’ve got to go. I can hear her cracking … see my father through the window banging on the counter. He points toward the bathroom door, which has a yellow pole …