Homegoing

“We believe the one who has the power. He is the one who gets to write the story. So when you study history, you must always ask yourself, Whose story am I missing? Whose voice was suppressed so that this voice could come forth? Once you have figured that out, you must find that story too. From there, you begin to get a clearer, yet still imperfect, picture.”

Homegoing, pp. 226-7
By Yaa Gyasi
Published 2016 by Knopf

I Will Send Rain

“Life was mostly about remembering or waiting, Birdie thought. Remembering when things were better, waiting for things to get better again. There was never a now, never a time when you said, ‘This is it.’ You thought there would be that time – when you turned sixteen, when Cy finally kissed you, when school got out – but then you ended up waiting for something else.”

I Will Send Rain, p. 178
By Rae Meadows
Published 2016 by Henry Holt and Co.

Behold the Dreamers

“The Bakweri people of Limbe believe August is a cursed month. The rain falls too hard and for too long; rivers rise up too high and too fast. Dry days are few; chilly nights are many. The month is long, dreary, and hostile, and it is for this reason that many in the tribe do not marry, build homes, or start businesses in August. They wait for it to go away, along with its curses. Jende Jonga, a Bakweri man, believed nothing in curses.”

Behold the Dreamers, p. 355
By Imbolo Mbue
Published 2016 by Random House

The Girls

“Tamar was sweet and kind, but the world she moved around in seemed like a television set: limited and straightforward and mundane, with the notations and structures of normality. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. There wasn’t a frightening gap between the life she was living and the way she thought about that life, a dark ravine I often sensed in Suzanne, and maybe in my own self as well.”
The Girls, p. 275
By Emma Cline
Published 2016 by Random House

Man and Wife

“I blamed no one who’d looked in: a house that hovered over, exposed. They’d seen my table with the one chair scooted out and three pushed in, my bed unmade in half. My books that lined the walls, my upright piano. I kept it neat but didn’t dust — cobwebs another pleasure housewives wouldn’t understand.”
“Old Maid” from Man and Wife, p. 76
By Katie Chase
Published 2016 by A Strange Object