My sister, Greta and I were having our portrait painted by our uncle Finn that afternoon because he knew he was dying. This was after I understood that I wasn't going to grow up and movie into his apartment and live there with him for the rest of my life. After I stopped believing that the AIDS thing was all some kind of big mistake. When he first asked, my mother said no. She said there was something macabre about it. When she thought of the two of us sitting in Finn's apartment with its huge windows and the scent of lavender and orange, when she thought of him looking at us like it might be the last time he would see us, she couldn't bear it. And, she said, it was a long drive from northern Westchester all the way into Manhattan. She crossed her arms over her chest, looked right into Finn's bird-blue eyes, and told him it was just hard to find the time these days.Tell the Wolves I'm Home
"Tell me about it," he said.
That's what broke her.
by Carol Rifka Brunt
After my misstep with The Lowlands last week (which I plan to read after the holidays), I borrowed the kindle edition of Tell the Wolves I'm Home from the library and read half of it over the weekend… it's wonderful! Told from the perspective of a 15 year old girl, it takes us back to that scary time in the 1980's when AIDS deaths were sky-rocketing and our understanding of the disease was in its infancy. I'm not sure whether it's actually categorized as a Young Adult novel, but I'm considering it my annual foray into that area.
What do you think of the opening? Would you keep reading?
Every Tuesday, Diane at Bibliophile by the Sea posts the opening paragraph (sometime two) of a book she decided to read based on the opening. Feel free to grab the banner and play along.