White Teeth
If you enjoy reading, and you haven’t read White Teeth by Zadie Smith, I’m not going to gasp in horror, but I will say that you should take this as the highest form of recommendation and get on the ball. Find out more about the book here and here.
I’d read the book a few years ago at juncture in my life slightly similiar to now and have, over the past week and a half, conquered it again. There were pages marked with sticky notes and paper clips that I relished the idea of returning to, the equivalent of leaving love notes for yourself that you won’t find until years down the road. Or tying a marker to a tree so upon returning home, you’ll know you’re headed in the right direction. One such marker highlighted this passage:
What was it about people in this unlovable century that convinced us we were, despite everything, eminently lovable as a people, as a species? What made us think that anyone who fails to love us is damaged, lacking malfunctioning in someway? And particularly if they replaced us with god, or a weeping madonna, or the face of christ in a ciabatta roll- then we call them crazy. Deluded. Regressive. We are so convinced of ourselves, and the goodness of our love, we cannot believe that there might be something more worthy of love than us, more worthy of worship. Greeting cards routinely tell us everybody deserves love. No. Everybody deserves water. Not everybody deserves love all the time.
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