GOODREADS BOOK BLURB:
GENRES:
FIRST WORDS:
MY REVIEW:
"Wherein I am false I am honest; not true, to be true," I say.
"I thought they would have beaten that bullshit out of you in prison."
"That bullshit is all that kept me going." One thing I'm sure Colborne will never understand is that I need language to live, like food - lexemes and morphemes and morsels of meaning nourish me with the knowledge that, yes, there is a word for this. Someone else has felt it before.
How could we explain that standing on a stage and speaking someone else's words as if they are your own is less an act of bravery than a desperate lunge at mutual understanding? An attempt to forge that tenuous link between speaker and listener and communicate something, anything, of substance.
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