From a "Celebrity Book Review" in progress

Towards the end of the book, things got kind of gloomy, but the kind of gloomy I can handle, like when Chris is away on tour and the VitaMix is on the blink, or I stain my favorite navy and cream striped Breton top with red wine. “Face up, spacegirl, you’re lonely,” writes Melissa Broder. “You’ve not been felt in centuries.” Thanks to the best masseuse in the nation (see my Goop post, under “Be”), I don’t have that problem, but still, Broder’s on to something with culinary matrimony. This part is from a poem called “Steak Night,” which I totally relate to because although Apple came to veganism on her own, I can’t get the men in my family to see the veggie light:

From a "Celebrity Book Review" in progress

Check out this stanza from “Ahoy” and then try to tell me that Melissa’s not my sister in the culinary sense of the term: “I am relieved to discover my favorite gourmet yogurt with full nutrition labeling.” And only a few lines later:  “God loves my hair.” Except for the fact that I prefer the British spelling of yogurt (i.e., ‘yoghurt’), these lines are so me.

From a "Celebrity Book Review" in progress

Another reason I really enjoyed “Meat Heart” is because I recognized the markings of a fellow rebel in disguise. In between a lot of naughty poems about religion, I found this diamond, from “Fugazi Shame.” “I cannot blame my parents no punk boyfriend delivered the perfect mixtapes.” I always wanted a punk boyfriend, too, Melissa! That’s why I wore so much eyeliner back at Spence!

From "Willy Wonka and the Healthy Fun Palace"

2.2 Services

In addition to the creation of healthy sweets, candies and alternative retreats, the Healthy Fun Palace will feature a nudist park, bowling alley (with edible balls and pins), and therapeutic horse ranch. An on-site cafeteria will serve a scrumptious array of hot and cold carob beverages along with baked goods. If you agree with my suggestion in Section 1.5, (“Geographical Considerations”), then an additional activity will be: swimming.

From "Notes from Mexico"

When I was a little girl I was obsessed with tree climbing. I thought if I climbed to the top of a tree I could get a tree to talk. There was one tree in my parents yard, this one was my favorite. When my parents got divorced and we moved out of the house, I perched my favorite Christmas ornament on one of its branches. This ornament was a lifelike bird with feathers. It had claws made out of wire. I hope I wrapped it tight enough. I would like to think that the bird is still there, but isn’t it terrible what happens in the weather.

From "The Night Watch"

Antonia listened to the birds being birdy while she waited for Marina to bring her a fresh drink. The men were somewhere inside the house together, festering. Ils lui manquaient. They were missed by her.
“I added a slice of orange,” Marina emerged through the patio doors, all brightness, with a tray.

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Marina’s husband, Robert, stumbled out to join them, trumpeting news of an even later dinner: the chicken was tremendously—irrevocably—burned.

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The pharmacy they favored was just two blocks down the street, but Antonia walked the two blocks slowly, taking in the melancholy quality of light, the way it pushed through the trees to illuminate a spot of otherwise unremarkable pavement. Gritty fissures. Moss-filled cracks.

From "The Night Watch"

Dixon swiveled slightly to look her in the eyes. “This won’t be easy, I imagine. For a man like Nigel.”
The name sent a shock down her shoulders.
“We were joking once, about our students,” he added, sensing her surprise. “How there were all these Finleys, and Quinns. But not so many Nigels. You know. And then he said.”
Her heart thumped inside her. These men, these intellectuals, suited, pressed and groomed—just when she was bored to bits by them, there’d be this surprise. The fact that Dixon knew this secret about her husband unreasonably enraged her. She was filled with the desire to rush home and grab Grey’s balls.